6^ 


Ihcologtcjj/ 

PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


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Division 


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^ooliB  bp  PcrciPal  LotoflL 


THE  SOUL  OF  THE  FAR  EAST.  i6mo,  gilt 
top,  Jl.25. 

CHOSON:  THE  LAND  OF  THE  MORNING 
CALM.  A Sketch  of  Korea.  Illustrated.  4to, 
gilt  top,  $s.oo;  half  calf,  $9.00 ; tree  calf,  $12.00. 

Library  Editioti.  8vo,  gilt  top,  ?3.oo;  half  calf, 
$6.00. 

NOTO : AN  UNEXPLORED  CORNER  OF 

JAPAN.  i6mo,  gilt  top,  $1.25. 

OCCULT  JAPAN  : THE  WAY  OF  THE  GODS. 
Illustrated.  Crovra  8vo,  $1.75. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY, 
Boston  and  New  York. 


NOTO 


AN  UNEXPLORED  CORNER 
OF  JAPAN 


PERCIVAL  LOWELL 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 
(C6e  RitiersiOe  Ptessf,  Camlin&oe 
1895 


BY 


Copyright,  1891, 

Bv  PERCIVAL  LOWELL. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  & Co. 


Prom  you,  my  dear  Basil,  the  coyijidant  of  my  hopes  toward 
Noto,  I know  I may  look  for  sympathy  now  that  my  advances  have 
met  with  such  happy  issue,  howeuer  incomplete  be  my  account. 
And  so  I ask  you  to  be  my  best  man  in  the  matter  before  the  world. 

Ever  yours, 

Percival  Lowell. 


Basil  Hall  Chamberlain,  Esq, 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.  An  Unknown i 

II.  Off  and  On 12 

III.  The  Usui  Pass 24 

IV.  Zenkoji 40 

V.  No 49 

VI.  On  a New  Cornice  Road 61 

VII.  Oya  Shiradzu,  Ko  Shiradzu 71 

VIII.  Across  the  Etchiu  Delta 83 

IX.  Over  the  Arayama  Pass 96 

X.  An  Inland  Sea 113 

XI.  Anamidzu 120 

XII.  At  Sea  again 126 

XIII.  On  the  Noto  Highway 140 

XIV.  The  Harinoki  Toge 152 

XV.  Toward  the  Pass 163 

XVI.  Riuzanjita 176 

XVII.  Over  the  Snow 187 

XVIII.  A Genial  Inkyo 205 

XIX.  Our  Passport  and  the  Basha 219 

XX.  Down  the  Tenriugawa 234 

XXI.  To  THE  Sea 250 


NOTO: 

AN  UNEXPLORED  CORNER  OF  JAPAN. 


I. 

An  Unknown. 

The  fancy  took  me  to  go  to  Noto. 

It  seemed  a strange  fancy  to  my  friends. 
Yet  I make  no  apology  for  it ; for  it  was  a 
case  of  love  at  first  sight. 

Scanning,  one  evening,  in  Toky5,  the  map 
of  Japan,  in  a vague,  itinerary  way,  with  the 
look  one  first  gives  to  the  crowd  of  faces  in  a 
ballroom,  my  eye  was  caught  by  the  pose  of 
a province  that  stood  out  in  graphic  mystery 
from  the  western  coast.  It  made  a striking 
figure  there,  with  its  deep-bosomed  bays  and 


An  Unknown 

Its  bold  headlands.  Its  name,  it  appeared,  was 
Noto  ; and  the  name  too  pleased  me.  I liked 
its  vowel  color;  I liked  its  consonant  form,  the 
liquid  n and  the  decisive  t.  Whimsically,  if 
you  please,  it  suggested  both  womanliness  and 
will.  The  more  I looked  the  more  I longed, 
until  the  desire  carried  me  not  simply  off  my 
feet,  but  on  to  them. 

Nobody  seemed  to  know  much  about  my 
inamorata.  Indeed,  those  I asked  asked  me, 
in  their  own  want  of  information,  why  I went, 
and  what  there  was  to  see:  of  which  ques- 
tions, the  second  itself  did  for  answer  to  the 
first.  Why  not  in  fact  have  set  my  heart  on 
going  to  Noto  just  because  it  was  not  known ! 
Not  that  it  is  well  to  believe  all  the  unseen  to 
be  much  worth  the  seeing,  but  that  I had  an 
Itching  sole  to  tread  what  others  had  not  al- 
ready effacingly  betrodden. 

Privately,  I was  delighted  with  the  general 
lack  of  knowledge  on  the  subject.  It  served 
admirably  to  put  me  in  conceit  with  my 


An  Unknown  3 

choice  ; although  I will  own  I was  rather  at  a 
loss  to  account  for  it,  and  I can  only  explain  it 
now  by  the  fact  that  the  place  was  so  out  of 
the  way,  and  not  very  unlike  others,  after  all. 
Being  thus  candid,  I ought  perhaps  to  go  a 
step  farther  and  renounce  the  name.  But,  on 
the  two  great  principles  that  the  pursuit  is  it- 
self the  prize  and  that  the  means  justifies  the 
end,  I prefer  to  keep  it.  For  there  was  much 
of  interest  to  me  by  the  way  ; and  I cling  to 
the  name  out  of  a kind  of  loyalty  to  my  own 
fancy.  I like  to  think  that  Xenophon  felt  as 
much  in  his  Anabasis,  though  but  one  book 
out  of  seven  deals  with  the  going  up,  the  other 
six  being  occupied  with  the  getting  safely 
away  again.  It  is  not  told  that  Xenophon  re- 
gretted his  adventure.  Certainly  I am  not 
sorry  I was  wedded  to  my  idea. 

To  most  of  my  acquaintance  Noto  was 
scarcely  so  much  as  a name,  and  its  local  habi- 
tation was  purely  cartographic.  I found  but 
one  man  who  had  been  there,  and  he  had 


4 An  Unknown 

dropped  down  upon  it,  by  way  of  harbor,  from 
a boat.  Some  sympathetic  souls,  however, 
went  so  far  toward  it  as  to  ask  where  it  was. 

To  the  westward  of  Toky5,  so  far  west  that 
the  setting  sun  no  longer  seems  to  lose  itself 
among  the  mountains,  but  plunges  for  good 
and  all  straight  into  the  shining  Nirvana  of 
the  sea,  a strangely  shaped  promontory  makes 
out  from  the  land.  It  is  the  province  of  Noto, 
standing  alone  in  peninsular  isolation. 

It  was  partly  in  this  position  that  the  fasci- 
nation lay.  Withdrawn  from  its  fellows,  with 
its  back  to  the  land,  it  faced  the  glory  of  the 
western  sky,  as  if  in  virginal  vision  gazing  out 
upon  the  deep.  Doubly  withdrawn  is  it,  for 
that  the  coast  from  which  it  stands  apart  is  it- 
self almost  unvisited  by  Europeans,  — an  out- 
of-the-world  state,  in  marked  contrast  to  the 
shore  bordering  the  Pacific,  which  is  now  a 
curbstone  on  the  great  waterway  round  the 
earth,  and  incidentally  makes  a happy  paren- 
thesis of  promenade  for  the  hasty  globe-trotter. 


An  Unknown  5 

The  form,  too,  of  the  peninsula  came  in  for 
a share  in  its  attraction.  Its  coast  line  was  so 
coquettishly  irregular.  If  it  turned  its  back  on 
the  land,  it  stretched  its  hands  out  to  the  sea, 
only  to  withdraw  them  again  the  next  moment, 
— a double  invitation.  Indeed,  there  is  no 
happier  linking  of  land  to  water.  The  navi- 
gator in  such  parts  becomes  himself  a delight- 
fully amphibious  creature,  at  home  in  both  ele- 
ments. Should  he  tire  of  the  one,  he  can 
always  take  to  the  other.  Besides,  such  fea- 
tures in  a coast  suggest  a certain  clean-cut 
character  of  profile,  — a promise,  in  Japan  at 
least,  rarely  unkept. 

To  reach  this  topographically  charming 
province,  the  main  island  had  to  be  crossed  at 
its  widest,  and,  owing  to  lofty  mountain  chains, 
much  tacking  to  be  done  to  boot.  Atmos- 
pherically the  distance  is  even  greater  than 
afoot.  Indeed,  the  change  in  climate  is  like  a 
change  in  zone  ; for  the  trend  of  the  main  is- 
land at  this  point,  being  nearly  east  and  west. 


6 An  Unknown 

gives  to  the  one  coast  a southerly  exposure, 
and  to  the  other  a northerly  one,  while  the 
highest  wall  of  peaks  in  Japan,  the  Hida- 
Shinshiu  range,  shuts  off  most  meteorological 
communication.  Long  after  Tdkyo  is  basking 
in  spring,  the  west  coast  still  lies  buried  in 
deep  drifts  of  snow. 

It  was  my  misfortune  to  go  to  this  out-of- 
the-way  spot  alone.  I was  duly  sensible  of  my 
commiserable  state  at  times.  Indeed,  in  those 
strange  flashes  of  dual  consciousness  when  a 
man  sees  his  own  condition  as  if  it  were 
another’s,  I pitied  myself  right  heartily ; for  I 
hold  that  travel  is  like  life  in  this,  at  least,  that 
a congenial  companion  divides  the  troubles 
and  doubles  the  joys.  To  please  one’s  self  is 
so  much  harder  than  to  be  pleased  by  another ; 
and  when  it  comes  to  doubt  and  difficulty, 
there  are  drawbacks  to  being  one’s  own  guide, 
philosopher,  and  friend.  The  treatment  is  too 
homoeopathic  by  half. 

An  excuse  for  a companion  existed  in  the 


An  Unknown  7 

person  of  my  Japanese  boy,  or  cook.  He  had 
been  boy  to  me  years  before  ; and  on  this  re- 
turn of  his  former  master  to  the  land  of  the 
enlightened,  he  had  come  back  to  his  alle- 
giance, promoting  himself  to  the  post  of  cook. 
During  the  journey  he  acted  in  both  capacities 
indifferently,  — in  one  sense,  not  in  the  other. 
In  addition  to  being  capable  he  was  willing 
and  of  great  endurance.  Besides,  he  was 
passionately  fond  of  travel. 

He  knew  no  more  about  Noto  than  I,  and  at 
times,  on  the  road,  he  could  not  make  out  what 
the  country  folk  said,  for  the  difference  in 
dialect ; which  lack  of  special  qualification 
much  increased  his  charm  as  a fellow-traveler. 
He  neither  spoke  nor  understood  English,  of 
course,  and  surprised  me,  after  surprising  him- 
self, on  the  last  day  but  one  of  our  trip,  by 
coming  out  with  the  words  “all  right.”  His 
surname,  appropriately  enough,  meant  moun- 
tain-rice-field,  and  his  last  name  — which  we 
should  call  his  first  name  — was  Yejiro,  or 


8 An  Unknown 

lucky-younger-son.  Besides  cooking  excel- 
lently well,  he  made  paper  plum  blossoms 
beautifully,  and  once  constructed  a string  tele- 
phone out  of  his  own  head.  I mention  these 
samples  of  accomplishment  to  show  that  he 
was  no  mere  dabbler  in  pots  and  pans. 

In  addition  to  his  various  culinary  contriv- 
ances we  took  a large  and  motley  stock  of 
canned  food,  some  of  his  own  home-made 
bread,  and  a bottle  of  whiskey.  We  laid  in 
but  a small  supply  of  beer;  not  that  I pur- 
posed to  forego  that  agreeable  beverage,  but 
because,  in  this  Europeanized  age,  it  can  be 
got  in  all  the  larger  towns.  Indeed,  the  beer 
brewed  in  Yokohama  to-day  ranks  with  the 
best  in  the  world.  It  is  in  great  demand  in 
Tdkyo,  while  its  imported,  or  professedly  im- 
ported, rivals  have  freely  percolated  into  the 
interior,  so  popular  with  the  upper  and  upper 
middle  classes  have  malt  liquors  become. 
Nowadays,  when  a Japanese  thinks  to  go  in 
for  Capuan  dissipation  regardless  of  expense, 
he  treats  himself  to  a bottle  of  beer. 


An  Unknown 


9 

These  larder-like  details  are  not  meant  to 
imply  that  I made  a god  of  my  palate,  but  that 
otherwise  my  digestion  would  have  played  the 
devil  with  me.  In  Japan,  to  attempt  to  live 
off  the  country  in  the  country  is  a piece  of 
amateur  acting  the  average  European  bitterly 
regrets  after  the  play,  if  not  during  its  per- 
formance. We  are  not  inwardly  contrived  to 
thrive  solely  on  rice  and  pickles. 

It  is  best,  too,  for  a journey  into  the  interior, 
to  take  with  you  your  own  bedding  ; sheets, 
that  is,  and  blankets.  The  bed  itself  Yejiro 
easily  improvised  out  of  innumerable  futoiis, 
as  the  quilts  used  at  night  by  the  Japanese  are 
called.  A single  one  is  enough  for  a native, 
but  Yejiro,  with  praiseworthy  zeal,  made  a 
practice  of  asking  for  half-a-dozen,  which  he 
piled  one  upon  the  other  in  the  middle  of  the 
room.  Each  had  a perceptible  thickness  and 
a rounded  loglike  edge ; and  when  the  time 
came  for  turning  in  on  top  of  the  lot,  I was  al- 
ways reminded  of  the  latter  end  of  a Grecian 


lo  An  Unknown 

hero,  the  structure  looked  so  like  a funeral 
pyre.  When  to  the  above  indispensables  were 
added  clothes,  camera,  dry  plates,  books,  and 
sundries,  it  made  a collection  of  household 
gods  quite  appalling  to  consider  on  the  march, 
I had  no  idea  I owned  half  so  much  in  the 
world  from  which  it  would  pain  me  to  be 
parted.  As  my  property  lay  spread  out  for 
packing,  I stared  at  it  aghast. 

To  transport  all  these  belongings,  native 
ingenuity  suggested  a thing  called  a yatiagi- 
gori ; several  of  them,  in  fact.  Now  the  con- 
struction of  a kori  is  elementally  ingenious. 
It  consists  simply  of  two  wicker  baskets,  of 
the  same  shape,  but  of  slightly  different  size, 
fitting  into  each  other  upside  down.  The  two 
are  then  tied  together  with  cord.  The  beauty 
of  the  idea  lies  in  its  extension ; for  in  propor- 
tion as  the  two  covers  are  pulled  out  or  pushed 
home  will  the  pair  hold  from  a maximum 
capacity  of  both  to  a minimum  capacity  of  one. 
It  is  possible  even  to  start  with  more  than  a 


An  Unknown  i / 

maximum,  if  the  contents  be  such  as  are  not 
given  to  falling  out  by  the  way.  The  contriv- 
ance is  simply  invaluable  when  it  comes  to 
transporting  food  ; for  then,  as  you  eat  your 
way  down,  the  obliging  covers  shrink  to  meet 
the  vacuum.  If  more  than  one  kori  be  neces- 
sary, an  easy  step  in  devices  leads  to  a series 
of  graded  sizes.  Then  all  your  baskets  even- 
tually collapse  into  one. 

The  last  but  most  important  article  of  all 
was  my  passport,  which  carefully  described 
my  proposed  route,  and  which  Yejiro  at  once 
took  charge  of  and  carried  about  with  him  for 
immediate  service  ; for  a wise  paternal  govern- 
ment insisted  upon  knowing  my  intentions 
before  permitting  me  to  visit  the  object  of  my 
choice. 


II. 


Off  and  On. 

It  was  on  the  day  but  one  before  the  festival 
of  the  fifth  moon  that  we  set  out,  or,  in  Eng- 
lish, the  third  of  May  ; and  those  emblems  of 
good  luck,  the  festival  fishes,  were  already 
swimming  in  the  air  above  the  house  eaves,  as 
we  scurried  through  the  streets  in  jinrikisha 
toward  the  Uyeno  railway  station.  VVe  had 
been  a little  behindhand  in  starting,  but  by 
extra  exertions  on  the  part  of  the  runners  we 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  station  just  in  time 
to  be  shut  out  by  the  gatekeeper.  Time  hav- 
ing been  the  one  thing  worthless  in  old  Japan, 
it  was  truly  sarcastic  of  fate  that  we  should 
reach  our  first  goal  too  late.  As  if  to  point 
chagrin,  the  train  still  stood  in  waiting.  Re- 
monstrances with  the  wicket  man  about  the 


Off  and  On  13 

imported  five-minute  regulation,  or  whatever 
it  was,  proved  of  no  avail.  Not  one  jot  or 
tittle  of  the  rule  would  he  yield,  which  perhaps 
was  natural,  inasmuch  as,  however  we  might 
have  managed  alone,  our  companions  the 
baskets  never  could  have  boarded  the  train 
without  official  help.  The  intrinsic  merits  of 
the  baggage  failed,  alas,  to  affect  its  mobility. 
Then  the  train  slowly  drew  out. 

To  be  stopped  on  the  road  is  the  common 
lot  of  travelers ; but  to  be  stopped  before  one 
has  fairly  started  is  nothing  less  than  to  be 
mocked  at.  It  is  best,  however,  to  take  such 
gibes  in  good  part.  Viewing  the  situation  in 
this  light,  the  ludicrousness  of  the  disconnec- 
tion struck  me  so  forcibly  as  very  nearly  to 
console  me  for  my  loss,  which  was  not  trifling, 
since  the  next  train  did  not  leave  for  above 
three  hours  ; too  late  to  push  on  beyond  Taka- 
saki  that  night,  a thing  I had  most  firmly 
purposed  to  do.  Here  I was,  the  miserable 
victim  of  a punctuality  my  own  people  had 


14  Off  and  On 

foisted  on  a land  only  too  happy  without  it ! 
There  was  poetic  justice  in  the  situation,  after 
all.  Besides,  the  course  of  one’s  true  love 
should  not  run  too  smooth.  Judicious  diffi- 
culty whets  desire. 

There  was  nothing  to  turn  to  on  the  spot, 
and  I was  ashamed  to  go  home.  Then  I op- 
portunely remembered  something. 

I have  always  thought  we  limited  our  phar- 
macopoeia. We  prescribe  pills  enough  for  the 
body,  while  we  leave  the  mind  to  look  after  it- 
self. Why  should  not  the  spirit  also  have  its 
draughts  and  mi.xtures,  properly  labeled  and 
dispensed ! For  example,  angling  appears  to 
be  a strong  mental  opiate.  I have  seen  other- 
wise normal  people  stupefied  beyond  expres- 
sion when  at  the  butt  of  a rod  and  line. 
Happening  to  recall  this  effect,  I instantly  pre- 
scribed for  my  perturbed  state  of  mind  a good 
dose  of  fishing,  to  be  taken  as  suited  the  day. 
So  I betook  me  down  a by-street,  where  the 
aerial  carp  promised  the  thickest,  and,  select- 


Off  and  On  / 5 

ing  a house  well  placed  for  a view,  asked 
permission  to  mount  upon  the  roof.  It 
chanced  to  be  a cast-off  clothing  shop,  along 
whose  front  some  fine,  if  aged,  garments  were 
hung  to  catch  the  public  eye.  The  camera 
and  I were  inducted  up  the  ascent  by  the 
owner,  while  my  boots,  of  course,  waited  dog- 
like in  the  porch  below. 

The  city  made  a spectacle  from  above.  On 
all  sides  superb  paper  carp  floated  to  the 
breeze,  tugging  at  the  strings  that  held  them 
to  the  poles  quite  after  the  manner  of  the  real 
fish.  One  felt  as  though,  by  accident,  he  had 
stepped  into  some  mammoth  globe  of  goldfish. 
The  whole  sky  was  alive  with  them.  Eighty 
square  miles  of  finny  folk  inside  the  city,  and 
an  untold  company  without.  The  counterfeit 
presentments  were  from  five  to  ten  feet  long, 
and  painted  to  mimic  life.  The  breeze  en- 
tered at  the  mouth  and  passed  out  somewhat 
less  freely  at  the  tail,  thus  keeping  them  well 
bellied  and  constantly  in  motion.  The  way 


Off  and  On 

they  rose  and  dove  and  turned  and  wriggled 
was  worthy  of  free  will.  Indeed,  they  had 
every  look  of  spontaneity,  and  lacked  only  the 
thing  itself  to  turn  the  sky  into  an  ocean,  and 
Tokyd  into  a sea  bottom  with  a rockery  of 
roof.  Each  fish  commemorates  the  birth  of  a 
boy  during  the  year.  It  would  thus  be  possi- 
ble to  take  a census  of  the  increase  of  the 
male  population  yearly,  at  the  trifling  cost  of 
scaling  a housetop,  — a set  of  statistics  not 
without  an  eventual  value. 

While  we  were  strolling  back,  Yejiro  and  I, 
we  came,  in  the  way,  upon  another  species  of 
fish.  The  bait,  which  was  well  designed  to 
captivate,  bade  for  the  moment  to  exceed  even 
the  angler’s  anticipations.  It  was  a sort  of 
un-Christmas  tree  with  fishing-pole  branches, 
from  which  dangled  articulated  figures,  bodied 
like  men,  but  with  heads  of  foxes,  tortoises, 
and  other  less  likely  beasts,  — bewitching  ob- 
jects in  impossible  evolution  to  a bald-pated 
urchin  who  stood  gazing  at  it  with  all  his  soul. 


Off  and  On  ly 

The  peddler  sat  with  his  eyes  riveted  on  the 
boy,  visions  of  a possible  catch  chasing  them- 
selves through  his  brain.  I watched  him, 
while  the  crowd  behind  stared  at  me.  We 
made  quite  a tail  of  curiosity.  The  opiate  was 
having  its  effect ; I began  to  feel  soporifically 
calm.  Then  I went  up  to  the  restaurant  in 
the  park  and  had  lunch  as  quietly  as  possible, 
in  fear  of  friendly  discovery. 

Sufficiently  punctual  passengers  being  now 
permitted  to  board  the  next  train,  I ensconced 
myself  in  a kind  of  parlor  compartment,  which, 
fortunately,  I continued  to  have  all  to  myself, 
and  was  soon  being  rolled  westward  across  the 
great  Musashi  plain,  ruminating.  My  chief 
quarrel  with  railway  rules  is,  I am  inclined  to 
think,  that  they  preach  to  the  public  what  they 
fail  to  practice  themselves.  After  having  de- 
nied me  a paltry  five  minutes’  grace  at  the 
station,  the  officials  proceeded  to  lose  half 
an  hour  on  the  road  in  a most  exaspera- 
ting manner.  Of  course  the  delay  was  quite 


1 8 Off  and  On 

exceptional.  Such  a thing  had  never  happened 
before,  and  would  not  happen  again  — till  the 
next  time.  But  the  phenomenal  character  of 
the  occurrence  failed  to  console  me,  as  it 
should  no  doubt  have  done.  My  delay,  too,  was 
exceptional  — on  this  line.  Nor  was  I properly 
mollified  by  repeated  offers  of  hard-boiled 
eggs,  cakes,  and  oranges,  which  certain  enter- 
prising peddlers  hawked  up  and  down  the  plat- 
forms, when  we  stopped,  to  a rhythmic  chant 
of  their  own  invention. 

The  only  consolation  lay  in  the  memory  of 
what  travel  over  the  Musashi  plain  used  to  be 
before  trains  hurried  one,  or  otherwise,  into 
the  heart  of  the  land.  In  those  days  the 
journey  was  done  in  jinrikisha,  and  a question 
of  days,  not  hours,  it  was  in  the  doing,  — two 
days’  worth  of  baby  carriage,  of  which  the 
tediousness  lay  neither  in  the  vehicles  nor 
in  the  way,  but  in  the  amount  of  both.  Or, 
if  one  put  comparative  speed  above  compara- 
tive comfort,  he  rose  before  the  lark,  to  be 


Off  and  On  ig 

tortured  through  a summer’s  day  in  a basha, 
or  horse  vehicle,  suitable  only  for  disembodied 
spirits.  My  joints  ached  again  at  the  thought. 
Clearly,  to  grumble  now  was  to  sin  against 
proportion. 

Besides,  the  weather  was  perfect : argosies 
of  fleecy  cloud  sailing  slowly  across  a deep 
blue  sky ; a broad  plain  in  all  its  spring  fresh- 
ness of  color,  picked  out  here  and  there  with 
fruit  trees  smothered  in  blossom,  and  bearing 
on  its  bosom  the  passing  shadows  of  the  clouds 
above  ; in  the  distance  the  gradually  growing 
forms  of  the  mountains,  each  at  first  starting 
into  life  only  as  a faint  wash  of  color,  barely 
to  be  parted  from  the  sky  itself,  pricking  up 
from  out  the  horizon  of  field.  Then,  slowly, 
timed  to  our  advance,  the  tint  gathered  sub- 
stance, grew  into  contrasts  that,  deepening 
minute  by  minute,  resolved  into  detail,  until 
at  last  the  whole  stood  revealed  in  all  its  maj- 
esty, foothill,  shoulder,  peak,  one  grand  chro- 
matic  rise  from  green  to  blue. 


20  Off  and  On 

One  after  the  other  the  points  came  out 
thus  along  the  southern  sky  : first  the  sum- 
mits behind  Ome ; then  Bukbsan,  like  some 
sentinel,  half-way  up  the  plain’s  long  side  ; 
and  then  range  beyond  range  stretching  toward 
the  west.  Behind  Bukosan  peeped  Cloud’s 
Rest,  the  very  same  outline  in  fainter  tint,  so 
like  the  double  reflection  from  a pane  of  glass 
that  I had  to  shift  to  an  open  window  to  make 
sure  it  was  no  illusion.  Then  the  Nikko  group 
began  to  show  on  the  right,  and  the  Haruna 
mass  took  form  in  front ; and  as  they  rose 
higher  and  the  sunbeams  slanted  more,  gilding 
the  motes  in  the  heavy  afternoon  air,  they 
rimmed  the  plain  in  front  into  one  great  bowl 
of  fairy  eau  de  vie  de  Dantzic.  Slowly  above 
them  the  sun  dipped  to  his  setting,  straight 
ahead,  burnishing  our  path  as  we  pursued  in 
two  long  lines  of  flashing  rail  into  the  west- 
northwest.  Lower  he  sank,  luring  us  on,  and 
lower  yet,  and  then  suddenly  disappeared  be- 
yond the  barrier  of  peaks. 


Off  and  On  21 

The  train  drew  up,  panting.  It  was  Taka- 
saki,  now  steeped  in  saffron  afterglow.  The 
guards  passed  along,  calling  out  the  name  and 
unfastening  the  doors.  Everybody  got  out 
and  shuffled  off  on  their  clogs.  The  baskets, 
Yejiro,  and  I followed,  after  a little,  through 
the  gloaming. 

It  was  not  far  to  the  inn.  It  was  just  far 
enough,  at  that  hour,  to  put  us  in  heart  for  a 
housing.  Indeed,  twilight  is  the  time  of  times 
to  arrive  anywhere.  Any  spot,  be  it  ever  so 
homely,  seems  homelike  then.  The  dusk  has 
snatched  from  you  the  silent  companionship  of 
nature,  to  leave  you  poignantly  alone.  It  is 
the  hour  when  a man  draws  closer  to  the  one 
he  loves,  and  the  hour  when  most  he  shrinks 
from  himself,  though  he  want  another  near. 
It  is  then  the  rays  of  the  house  lights  wander 
abroad  and  appear  to  beckon  the  houseless  in  ; 
and  that  must  be,  in  truth,  a sorry  hostelry  to 
seem  such  to  him. 

Even  Takasaki  bore  a look  of  welcome  alike 


22  Off  and  On 

to  the  foreign  and  the  native  stranger,  which 
was  certainly  wonderful  for  Takasaki.  The 
place  used  not  to  fancy  foreigners,  and  its 
inns  bandied  the  European  traveler  about  like 
a bale  of  undesirable  merchandise  with  the 
duties  still  due.  But  now,  what  a change  ! 
The  innkeeper  not  only  received  us,  but  led 
the  way  at  once  to  the  best  room,  — a room  in 
the  second  story  of  the  fireproof  storehouse  at 
the  back,  which  he  hoped  would  be  comfor- 
table. Comfortable  ! The  room  actually  prof- 
fered us  a table  and  chairs.  No  one  who  has 
not,  after  a long  day’s  tramp,  sought  in  vain  to 
rest  his  weary  body  propped  up  against  a side 
beam  in  a Japanese  inn  can  enter  into  the  feel- 
ing a chair  inspires,  even  long  afterward,  by 
recollection. 

I cannot  say  I loved  Takasaki  in  former 
days.  Was  it  my  reception  or  was  it  senti- 
ment that  made  me  see  it  all  now  through  a 
mist  of  glamour.?  Unsuspected  by  us,  that 
atmosphere  of  time  tints  everything.  Few 


Off  and  On  2^ 

things  but  look  lovelier  seen  down  the  vista  of 
the  years.  Indeed,  sentiment  is  a kind  of  re- 
ligion ; or  is  it  religion  that  is  a kind  of  senti- 
ment "i  Both  are  so  subtly  busy  canonizing 
the  past,  and  crowning  with  aureoles  very 
every-day  things  as  well  as  very  ordinary 
people.  Not  men  alone  take  on  a sanctity 
when  they  are  no  more. 


III. 


The  Usui  Pass. 

The  first  object  to  catch  my  eye,  when  the 
s/idji  were  pushed  apart,  the  next  morning,  was 
a string  of  the  ubiquitous  paper  fish,  dangling 
limp  in  the  motionless  May  air  from  a pole  in 
a neighboring  yard  ; highly  suggestive  of  hav- 
ing just  been  caught  for  breakfast.  The  sight 
would  have  been  painfully  prophetic  but  for 
the  food  we  had  brought  with  us  ; for,  of  all 
meals,  a Japanese  breakfast  is  the  most  cold, 
the  most  watery,  and  the  most  generally  fishy 
in  the  world.  As  it  was,  breakfast  consisted 
of  pathetic  copies  of  consecrated  originals. 
It  might  have  been  excellent  but  for  the 
canned  milk. 

No  doubt  there  are  persons  who  are  fond  of 


The  Usui  Pass 


25 

canned  milk  ; but,  for  my  part,  I loathe  it. 
The  effect  of  the  sweetish  glue  upon  my  inner 
man  is  singularly  nauseating.  I have  even 
been  driven  to  drink  my  matutinal  coffee  in  all 
its  after-dinner  strength  rather  than  adulterate 
it  with  the  mixture.  You  have,  it  is  true,  the 
choice  of  using  the  stuff  as  a dubious  paste, 
or  of  mixing  it  with  water  into  a non-com- 
mittal wash ; and,  whichever  plan  you  adopt, 
you  wish  you  had  adopted  the  other.  Why  it 
need  be  so  unpalatably  cloying  is  not  clear  to 
my  mind.  They  tell  me  the  sugar  is  needed 
to  preserve  the  milk.  I never  could  make  out 
that  it  preserved  anything  but  the  sugar. 
Simply  to  see  the  stuff  ooze  out  of  the  hole  in 
the  can  is  deterrent.  It  is  enough  to  make 
one  think  seriously  at  times  of  adding  a good 
milch  cow  to  his  already  ample  trip  encumber- 
ment,  at  the  certain  cost  of  delaying  the  march, 
and  the  not  improbable  chance  of  being  taken 
for  an  escaped  lunatic.  Indeed,  to  the  Japa- 
nese mind,  to  be  seen  solemnly  preceding  a 


26  The  Usui  Pass 

caravan  of  cattle  for  purposes  of  diet  would 
certainly  suggest  insanity.  For  cows  in  Japan 
are  never  milked.  Dairy  products,  conse- 
quently, are  not  to  be  had  on  the  road,  and  the 
man  who  fancies  milk,  butter,  or  cheese  must 
take  them  with  him. 

It  used  to  be  the  same  in  Tokyo,  but  in 
these  latter  days  a dairy  has  been  started  at 
Hakone,  which  supplies  fresh  butter  to  such 
Tokyoites  as  like  it.  One  of  my  friends,  who 
had  been  many  years  from  home,  was  much 
taken  with  the  new  privilege,  and  called  my 
attention  to  it  with  some  pride.  The  result 
was  a colorless  lardy  substance  that  looked 
like  poor  oleomargarine  (not  like  good  oleo- 
margarine, for  that  looks  like  butter),  but 
which  was  held  in  high  esteem,  nevertheless. 
My  friend,  indeed,  seriously  maintained  to  me 
once  that  such  was  the  usual  color  of  fresh 
butter,  and  insisted  that  the  yellow  hue  com- 
mon elsewhere  must  be  the  result  of  dyes. 
He  was  so  positive  on  the  point  that  he  al- 


The  Usui  Pass 


27 

most  persuaded  me,  until  I had  left  him  and 
reason  returned.  It  took  me  some  time  to  re- 
cover from  the  pathos  of  the  thing  : a man  so 
long  deprived  of  that  simple  luxury  that  he 
had  quite  forgotten  how  it  looked,  and  a set 
of  cows  utterly  incapable,  from  desuetude,  of 
producing  it  properly. 

After  I had  duly  swallowed  as  much  as  I 
could  of  the  doubtful  dose  supposed  to  be  ca/e 
au  lait,  the  cans  were  packed  up  again,  and 
we  issued  from  the  inn  to  walk  a stone’s  throw 
to  the  train. 

Takasaki  stands  well  toward  the  upper  end 
of  the  plain,  just  below  where  the  main  body 
of  it  thrusts  its  arms  out  into  the  hills.  Up 
one  of  these  we  were  soon  wending.  Every 
minute  the  peaks  came  nearer,  frowning  at  us 
from  their  crumbling  volcanic  crags.  At  last 
they  closed  in  completely,  standing  round 
about  in  threatening  pinnacles,  and  barring  the 
way  in  front.  At  this,  the  train,  contrary  to 
the  usual  practice  of  trains  in  such  seemingly 
impassable  places,  timidly  drew  up. 


28  The  Usui  Pass 

In  truth,  the  railway  comes  to  an  end  at  the 
foot  of  the  Usui  toge  Qo£;-e,  meaning  “pass”), 
after  having  wandered  up,  with  more  zeal  than 
discretion,  into  a holeless  pocket.  Such  un- 
timely end  was  far  from  the  original  intention  ; 
for  the  line  was  meant  for  a through  line  along 
the  NakasendS  from  T6ky5  to  Kioto,  and  great 
things  were  expected  of  it.  But  the  engineer- 
ing difficulties  at  this  point,  and  still  more  at 
the  Wada  toge,  a little  farther  on,  proving  too 
great,  the  project  was  abandoned,  and  the 
through  line  built  along  the  Tokaido  instead. 
The  idea,  however,  had  got  too  much  headway 
to  be  stayed.  So  it  simply  jumped  the  Usui 
toge,  rolled  down  the  Shinano  valley,  climbed 
another  divide,  and  came  out,  at  last,  on  the 
sea  of  Japan. 

The  hiatus  caused  by  the  Usui  pass  is  got 
over  by  a horse  railroad  ! Somehow,  the  mere 
idea  seemed  comic.  A horse  railroad  in  the 
heart  of  Japan  over  a pass  a mile  high ! To 
have  suddenly  come  upon  the  entire  Comedie 


The  Usui  Pass 


29 

Fran^aise  giving  performances  in  a teahouse 
at  the  top  could  hardly  have  been  more  surpris- 
ing. The  humor  of  the  thing  was  not  a whit 
lessened  by  its  looks. 

To  begin  with,  the  cars  were  fairly  natural. 
This  was  a masterly  stroke  in  caricature,  since 
it  furnished  the  necessary  foil  to  all  that  fol- 
lowed. They  were  not,  to  my  eye,  of  any 
known  species,  but,  with  the  exception  of  be- 
ing evidently  used  to  hard  lines,  they  looked 
enough  like  trams  to  pass  as  such.  Inside  sat, 
in  all  seriousness,  a wonderful  cageful  of  Japa- 
nese. To  say  that  they  were  not  to  the  horse- 
car  born  conveys  but  a feeble  notion  of  their 
unnaturalness.  They  were  propped,  rather 
than  seated,  bolt  upright,  with  a decorum  which 
would  have  done  more  than  credit  to  a funeral. 
They  did  not  smile  ; they  did  not  even  stir,  ex- 
cept to  screw  their  heads  round  to  stare  at  me. 
They  were  dummies  pure  and  simple,  and  may 
pass  for  the  second  item  in  the  properties. 

The  real  personnel  began  with  the  horses. 


The  Usui  Pass 


30 

These  were  very  sorry-looking  animals,  but 
tough  enough  admirably  to  pull  through  the 
performance.  Managing  them  with  some  diffi- 
culty stood  the  driver  on  the  front  platform, 
arrayed  in  a bottle-green  livery,  with  a stiff 
military  cap  which  gave  him  the  combined 
look  of  a German  officer  and  of  a musician 
from  a street  band.  His  energy  was  spent  in 
making  about  three  times  as  much  work  for 
himself  as  was  needed.  On  the  tail  of  the 
car  rode  the  guard,  also  notably  appareled, 
whose  importance  outdid  even  his  uniform. 
He  had  the  advantage  of  the  driver  in  the 
matter  of  a second-class  fish-horn,  upon  which 
he  tooted  vigorously  whenever  he  thought  of 
it ; and  he  was  not  a forgetful  man. 

Comedie  Fran^aise,  indeed ! Why,  here  it 
all  was  in  Japanese  farce ! From  the  passivity 
of  the  passengers  to  the  pantomime  of  the 
driver  and  guard,  it  could  hardly  have  been 
done  better;  and  the  actors  all  kept  their 
countenances,  too,  in  such  a surprising  man- 


TJ)e  Usui  Pass 


31 

ner.  A captious  critic  might  have  suggested 
that  they  looked  a thought  too  much  at  the  au- 
dience ; hut,  on  the  whole,  I think  that  rather 
added  • to  the  effect.  At  all  events,  they  were 
excellently  good,  especially  the  guard,  whose 
consequential  airs  could  not  have  been  happier 
if  they  had  been  studied  for  years. 

There  was  no  end  of  red  tape  about  the 
company.  Though  the  cars  were  some  time 
in  starting,  so  that  I got  well  ahead  of  them, 
they  could  not  admit  me  on  the  road,  when 
my  baggage  kuruina  turned  out  to  be  too  slow, 
because  I had  not  bought  a ticket  at  the  office. 
So  I was  obliged  to  continue  to  tramp  afoot, 
solacing  myself  with  short  cuts,  by  which  I 
gained  on  them,  to  my  satisfaction,  and  by 
which  I gained  still  more  on  my  own  baggage, 
to  my  disgust,  in  that  I ceased  to  be  near 
enough  to  hasten  it. 

I had  to  wait  for  the  latter  at  the  parting  of 
the  ways ; for  the  tram  had  a brand-new  ser- 
pentine track  laid  out  for  it,  while  the  old  trail 


The  Usui  Pass 


32 

at  this  point  struck  up  to  the  right,  coming 
out  eventually  at  a shrine  that  crowned  the 
summit  of  the  pass.  Horse-railroads  not  be- 
ing as  new  to  me  as  to  the  Japanese,  I piously 
chose  the  narrow  way  leading  to  the  temple, 
to  the  lingering  regret  of  the  baggage  trun- 
dlers,  who  turned  sorry  eyes  down  upon  the 
easier  secular  road  at  every  bend  in  our  own. 

A Japanese  pass  has  one  feature  which  is  in- 
variable : it  is  always  longer  than  you  think  it 
is  going  to  be.  I can,  of  my  own  experience, 
recall  but  two  exceptions  to  this  distressing 
family  likeness,  both  of  which  were  occasions 
of  company  which  no  doubt  forbade  proper  ap- 
preciation of  their  length,  and  vitiates  them  as 
scientific  observations.  When  toiling  up  a 
toge  I have  been  tempted  to  impute  acute  as- 
centomania  to  the  Japanese  mind,  but  sober 
second  thought  has  attributed  this  inference 
to  an  overheated  imagination.  It  seems  neces- 
sary, therefore,  to  lay  the  blame  on  the  land, 
which,  like  some  people,  is  deceptive  from 


The  Usui  Pass 


33 


very  excess  of  uprightness.  There  is  so  much 
more  soil  than  can  possibly  be  got  in  by  simple 
directness  of  purpose,  or  even  by  one,  more 
or  less  respectable,  slope. 

It  was  cold  enough  at  the  summit  to  cool 
anything,  imaginary  or  otherwise.  Even  de- 
votion shivered,  as,  in  duty  bound,  it  admired 
the  venerable  temple  and  its  yet  more  venera- 
ble tree.  The  roofs  of  the  chalets  stood 
weighted  with  rocks  to  keep  them  there,  and 
the  tree,  raised  aloft  on  its  stone-girded  para- 
pet, stretched  bare  branches  imploringly  to- 
ward the  sky.  So  much  for  being  a mile  or  so 
nearer  heaven,  while  still  of  the  earth  and 
earthy. 

Half-way  down  the  descent,  Asamayama 
came  out  from  behind  the  brow  of  a hill,  send- 
ing his  whiffs  .of  smoke  dreamily  into  the  air  ; 
and  a little  lower  still,  beyond  a projecting 
spur  on  the  opposite  side,  the  train  appeared, 
waiting  in  the  plain,  with  its  engine  puffing  a 
sort  of  antiphonal  response.  The  station 


The  Usui  Pass 


34 

stood  at  the  foot  of  the  tramway,  which  tum- 
bled to  it  after  the  manner  of  a cascade  over 
what  looked  to  be  a much  lower  pass,  thus  ap- 
parently supporting  the  theory  of  “ supere- 
rogatory climb.”  The  baggage  passed  on,  and 
Yejiro  and  I followed  leisurely,  admiring  the 
view. 

Either  the  old  trail  failed  to  connect  with 
the  railway  terminus,  which  I suspect,  or  else 
we  missed  the  path,  for  we  had  to  supply  a 
link  ourselves.  This  resulted  in  a woefully  bad 
cut  across  a something  between  a moor  and  a 
bog,  supposed  to  be  drained  by  ditches,  most 
of  which  lay  at  right  angles  to  our  course. 
We  were  not  much  helped,  half-way  over,  by  a 
kindly  - intentioned  porter,  who  dawned  upon 
us  suddenly  in  the  distance,  rushing  excitedly 
out  from  behind  the  platform,  gesticulating  in 
a startling  way  and  shouting  that  time  was  up. 
We  made  what  sorry  speed  was  possible  under 
the  circumstances,  getting  very  hot  from  exer- 
tion, and  hotter  still  from  anxiety,  and  then 


The  Usui  Pass  ^5 

waited  impatiently  ten  good  minutes  in  our 
seats  in  the  railway  carriage  for  the  train  to 
start.  I forget  whether  I tipped  that  well- 
meaning  but  misguided  man. 

The  tram  contingent  had  already  arrived,  — 
had  in  fact  finished  feeding  at  the  many 
mushroom  teahouses  gathered  about  the  sta- 
tion, — and  were  now  busy  finding  themselves 
seats.  Their  bustle  was  most  pleasing  to  wit- 
ness, till  suddenly  I discovered  that  there  were 
no  first-class  carriages  ; that  it  was  my  seat,  so 
to  speak,  for  which  they  were  scrambling. 
The  choice,  it  appeared,  began  with  second- 
class  coaches,  doomed  therefore  to  be  doubly 
popular.  Second-class  accommodation,  by  no 
means  merely  nominal,  was  evidently  the 
height  of  lu.xury  to  the  patrons  of  the  country 
half  of  this  disjointed  line,  which  starts  so  se- 
ductively from  Tokyo.  Greater  comfort  is 
strictly  confined  to  the  more  metropolitan  por- 
tion. 

The  second-class  coaches  had  of  course  the 


^6  The  Usui  Pass 

merit  of  being  cheaper,  but  this  was  more  than 
offset  by  the  fact  that  in  place  of  panes  of 
glass  their  windows  had  slats  of  wood  with 
white  cotton  stretched  over  them,  — an  in- 
genious contrivance  for  shutting  out  the  view 
and  a good  bit  of  the  light,  both  of  which  are 
pleasing,  and  for  letting  in  the  cold,  which  is 
not. 

“If  you  go  with  the  crowd,  you  will  be 
taken  care  of,”  as  a shrewd  financier  of  my  ac- 
quaintance used  to  say  about  stocks.  This 
occurred  to  me  by  way  of  consolation,  as  the 
guard  locked  us  into  the  carriage,  in  the  ap- 
proved paternal  government  style.  Fortu- 
nately the  locking -in  was  more  apparent  than 
real,  for  it  consisted  solely  in  the  turning  of  a 
bar,  which  it  was  quite  possible  to  unturn,  as 
all  travelers  in  railway  coaches  are  aware,  by 
dropping  the  window  into  its  oubliette  and 
stretching  the  arm  well  down  outside,  — a 
trick  of  which  I did  not  scruple  to  avail  my- 
self. My  fellow-passengers  the  Japanese  were 


The  Usui  Pass 


37 

far  too  decorous  to  attempt  anything  of  the 
kind,  which  compelled  me  to  do  so  surrepti- 
tiously, like  one  who  committeth  a crime. 

These  fellow-passengers  fully  made  up  for 
the  room  they  took  by  their  value  as  scientific 
specimens.  I would  willingly  have  chloro- 
formed them  all,  and  presented  them  on  pins 
to  some  sartorial  museum  ; for  each  typified  a 
stage  in  a certain  unique  process  of  evolution, 
at  present  the  Japanese  craze.  They  were 
just  so  many  samples  of  unnatural  develop- 
ment in  dress,  from  the  native  Japanese  to  the 
imitated  European.  The  costume  usually  be- 
gan with  a pot-hat  and  ended  in  extreme  cases 
with  congress  boots.  But  each  man  exhibited 
a various  phase  of  it  according  to  his  self- 
emancipation from  former  etiquette.  Some- 
times a most  disreputable  Derby,  painfully 
reminiscent  of  better  bygone  days,  found  it- 
self in  company  with  a refined  kimono  and  a 
spotless  cloven  sock.  Sometimes  the  meta- 
morphosis embraced  the  body,  and  even  ex- 


3^  Tl)e  Usui  Pass 

tended  down  the  legs,  but  had  not  yet  attacked 
the  feet,  in  its  creeping  paralysis  of  imitation. 
In  another  corner,  a collarless,  cravatless  semi- 
flannel shirt  had  taken  the  place  of  the  under 
tunic,  to  the  worse  than  loss  of  looks  of  its 
wearer.  Opposite  this  type  sat  the  supreme 
variety  which  evidently  prided  itself  upon  its 
height  of  fashion.  In  him  the  change  had 
gone  so  far  as  to  recall  the  East  End  rough 
all  over,  an  illusion  dispelled  only  by  the  inno- 
cence of  his  face. 

While  still  busy  pigeonholing  my  specimens, 
I chanced  to  look  through  the  open  window, 
and  suddenly  saw  pass  by,  as  in  the  shifting 
background  of  some  scenic  play,  the  lichen- 
veiled  stone  walls  and  lotus-mantled  moats  of 
the  old  feudal  castle  of  Uyeda.  Poor,  neg- 
lected, despised  bit  of  days  gone  by  ! — days 
that  are  but  yesterdays,  aeons  since  as  meas- 
ured here.  Already  it  was  disappearing  down 
the  long  perspective  of  the  past  ; and  yet  only 
twenty  years  before  it  had  stood  in  all  the 


ne  Usui  Pass 


39 

pride  and  glory  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Then  it 
had  been 

A daimyo’s  castle,  wont  of  old  to  wield 
Across  the  checkerboard  of  paddyfield 
A rook-like  power  from  its  vantage  square 
On  pawns  of  hamlets  ; now  a ruin,  there. 

Its  triple  battlements  gaze  grimly  down 
Upon  a new-begotten  bustling  town. 

Only  to  see  self-mirrored  in  their  moat  • 

An  ivied  image  where  the  lotus  float. 

Some  subtle  sense  of  fitness  within  me  was 
touched  as  it  might  have  been  a nerve ; and  in- 
stantly the  motley  crew  inside  the  car  became 
not  merely  comic,  but  shocking.  It  seemed 
unseemly,  this  shuffling  off  the  stage  of  the 
tragic  old  by  the  farce-like  new.  However  lit- 
tle one  may  mourn  the  dead,  something  forbids 
a harlequinade  over  their  graves.  The  very 
principle  of  cosmic  continuity  has  a decency 
about  it.  Nature  holds  with  one  hand  to  the 
past  even  as  she  grasps  at  the  future  with  the 
other.  Some  religions  consecrate  by  the  lay- 
ing on  of  hands  ; Nature  never  withdraws  her 
touch. 


IV. 


Zenhoji. 

We  were  now  come  more  than  half-way 
from  sea  to  sea,  and  we  were  still  in  the  thick 
of  Europeanization.  So  far  we  had  traveled  in 
the  track  of  the  comic.  For  if  Japan  seems 
odd  for  what  it  is,  it  seems  odder  for  what  it  is 
no  longer. 

One  of  the  things  which  imitation  of  West- 
ern ways  is  annihilating  is  distance.  Japan, 
like  the  rest  of  the  world,  is  shrinking.  This 
was  strikingly  brought  home  that  afternoon. 
A few  short  hours  of  shifting  panorama,  a 
varying  foreground  of  valley  that  narrowed  or 
widened  like  the  flow  of  the  stream  that  had 
made  it,  peaks  that  opened  and  shut  on  one 
another  like  the  changing  flies  in  some  spec- 


Zenkoji  41 

tacular  play,  and  we  had  compassed  two  days’ 
worth  of  old-time  travel  when  a man  made 
every  foot  of  ground  his  own,  and  were  draw- 
ing near  Zenkoji. 

I was  glad  to  be  there ; hardly  as  glad  to  be 
there  so  soon.  There  are  lands  made  to  be 
skimmed,  tame  samenesses  of  plain  or  weary 
wastes  of  desert,  where  even  the  iron  horse 
gallops  too  slow.  Japan  is  not  one  of  them. 
A land  which  Nature  herself  has  already 
crumpled  into  its  smallest  compass,  and  then 
covered  with  vegetation  rich  as  velvet,  is  no 
land  to  hurry  over.  One  may  well  linger 
where  each  mile  builds  the  scenery  afresh. 
And  in  this  world,  whose  civilization  grows  at 
the  expense  of  the- picturesque,  it  is  something 
to  see  a culture  that  knows  how  least  to  mar. 

Upon  this  mood  of  unsatisfied  satisfaction 
my  night  fell,  and  shortly  after  the  train  rolled 
into  the  Zenkoji  station,  amid  a darkness 
deepened  by  falling  rain.  The  passengers 
bundled  out.  The  station  looked  cheerless 


42  Zenkoji 

enough.  But  from  across  the  open  space  in 
front  shone  a galaxy  of  light.  A crowd  of  tea- 
houses posted  on  the  farther  side  had  gar- 
landed themselves  all  over  with  lanterns,  each 
trying  to  outvie  its  neighbor  in  apparent  hos- 
pitality. The  display  was  perceptibly  of  pe- 
cuniary intent ; but  still  it  was  grateful.  To 
be  thought  worth  catching  partakes,  after  all, 
of  the  nature  of  a compliment.  What  was 
not  so  gratifying  was  the  embarrassment  of 
choice  that  followed  ; for  each  of  these  gayly 
beckoning  caravansaries  proved  to  be  a catch- 
pilgrim  for  its  inn  up-town.  Being  on  a hill, 
Zenkoji  is  not  by  way  of  easy  approach  by 
train  ; and  the  pilgrims  to  it  are  legion.  In 
order,  therefore,  to  anticipate  the  patronage 
of  unworthy  rivals,  each  inn  has  felt  obliged 
to  be  personally  represented  on  the  spot. 

The  one  for  which  mine  host  of  Takasaki 
had,  with  his  blessing,  made  me  a note  turned 
out  so  poorly  prefaced  that  I hesitated.  The 
extreme  zeal  on  the  part  of  its  proprietor  to 


Zenhoji  4^ 

book  me  made  me  still  more  doubtful.  So, 
sending  Yejiro  off  to  scout,  I walked  to  and 
fro,  waiting.  I did  not  dare  sit  down  on  the 
sill  of  any  of  the  booths,  for  fear  of  commit- 
ting myself. 

While  he  was  still  away  searching  vainly  for 
the  proper  inn,  the  lights  were  suddenly  all 
put  out.  At  the  same  fatal  moment  the  jin- 
rikisha,  of  which  a minute  before  there  had 
seemed  to  be  plenty,  all  mysteriously  vanished. 
By  one  fell  stroke  there  was  no  longer  either 
end  in  sight  nor  visible  means  of  reaching  it. 

“ In  the  street  of  by  and  by 
Stands  the  hostelry  of  never,” 

as  a rondel  of  Henley’s  hath  it ; but  not  every 
one  has  the  chance  to  see  the  Spanish  proverb 
so  literally  fulfilled.  There  we  were  — no- 
where. I think  I never  suffered  a bitterer 
change  of  mood  in  my  life. 

At  last,  after  some  painful  groping  in  the 
dark,  and  repeated  resolves  to  proceed  on  foot 
to  the  town  and  summon  help,  I chanced  to 


Zenhoji 

stumble  upon  a stray  kuruma,  which  had  in- 
cautiously returned,  under  cover  of  the  dark- 
ness, to  the  scene  of  its  earlier  exploits.  I 
secured  it  on  the  spot,  and  by  it  was  trundled 
across  a bit  of  the  plain  and  up  the  long  hill 
crowned  by  the  town,  to  the  pleasing  jingle  of 
a chime  of  rings  hung  somewhere  out  of  sight 
beneath  the  body  of  the  vehicle.  When  the 
trundler  asked  where  to  drop  me,  I gave  at  a 
venture  the  name  that  sounded  the  best,  only 
to  be  sure  of  having  guessed  awry  when  he 
drew  up  before  the  inn  it  designated.  The  ex- 
istence of  a better  was  legible  on  the  face  of  it. 
We  pushed  on. 

Happily  the  hostelries  were  mostly  in  one 
quarter,  the  better  to  keep  an  eye  on  one  an- 
other ; for  in  the  course  of  the  next  ten  min- 
utes I suppose  we  visited  nearly  every  inn  in 
the  place.  The  choice  was  not  a whit  fur- 
thered by  the  change  from  the  outposts  to  the 
originals.  At  last,  however,  I got  so  far  in 
decision  as  to  pull  off  my  boots,  — an  act 


Zenkoji  4^ 

elsewhere  as  well,  I believe,  considered  an  ac- 
quiescence in  fate,  — and  suffered  myself  to 
be  led  through  the  house,  along  the  indoor  pi- 
azza of  polished  board  exceeding  slippery,  up 
several  breakneck,  ladder-like  stairways  even 
more  polished  and  frictionless,  round  some 
corners  dark  as  a dim  andon  (a  feeble  tallow 
candle  blinded  by  a paper  box),  placed  so  as 
not  to  light  the  turn,  could  make  them,  until 
finally  we  emerged  on  the  third  story,  a height 
that  itself  spoke  for  the  superiority  of  the  inn, 
and  I was  ushered  into  what  my  bewildered 
fancy  instantly  pictured  a mediaeval  banqueting 
hall.  It  conjured  up  the  idea  on  what  I must 
own  to  have  been  insufficient  grounds,  namely, 
a plain  deal  table  and  a set  of  questionably 
made,  though  rather  gaudily  upholstered 
chairs.  But  chairs,  in  a land  whose  people 
have  from  time  immemorial  found  their  own 
feet  quite  good  enough  to  sit  on,  were  so  unex- 
pected a luxury,  even  after  our  Takasaki 
experience,  that  they  may  be  pardoned  for  sug- 
gesting any  flight  of  fancy. 


^6  Ze^ikoji 

The  same  might  formerly  have  been  said  of 
the  illumination  next  introduced.  Now,  how- 
ever, common  kerosene  lamps  are  no  longer  so 
much  of  a sight  even  in  Japan.  Indeed,  I had 
the  assurance  to  ask  for  a shade  to  go  with 
the  one  they  set  on  the  table  in  all  the  glar- 
ing nudity  of  a plain  chimney.  This  there 
was  some  difficulty  in  finding,  the  search  re- 
sulting in  a green  paper  visor  much  too  small, 
that  sat  on  askew  just  far  enough  not  to  hide 
the  light.  The  Japanese  called  it  a hat,  with- 
out the  least  intention  of  humor. 

By  the  light  thus  given  the  room  stood  re- 
vealed, an  eyrie,  encased  on  all  sides  except 
the  one  of  approach  by  shoji  only.  Into  these 
had  been  let  a belt  of  glass  eighteen  inches 
wide  all  the  way  round  the  room,  at  the  height 
at  which  a person  sitting  on  the  mats  could  see 
out.  It  is  much  the  fashion  now  thus  to  graft 
a Western  window  upon  a Far-Eastern  wall. 
The  idea  is  ingenious  and  economical,  and  has 
but  two  drawbacks,  — that  you  feel  excessively 


Zenkoji  47 

indoors  if  you  stand  up,  and  strangely  out-of- 
doors  if  you  sit  down. 

I pushed  the  panels  apart,  and  stepped  out 
upon  the  narrow  balcony.  Below  me  lay  the 
street,  the  lanterns  of  the  passers-by  flitting 
like  fireflies  through  the  dark  ; and  from  it 
stole  up  to  me  the  hum  of  pleasure  life,  a 
perfume  of  sound,  strangely  distinct  in  the  still 
night  air. 

Accredited  pilgrim  though  one  be  not,  to 
pass  by  so  famous  a shrine  as  Zenkoji  without 
the  tribute  of  a thought  were  to  be  more  or 
less  than  human,  even  though  one  have  paid 
his  devoirs  before.  Sought  every  year  by 
thousands  from  all  parts  of  Japan,  it  serves 
but  to  make  the  pilgrimage  seem  finer  that  the 
bourne  itself  should  not  be  fine.  Large  and 
curious  architecturally  for  its  roof,  the  temple 
is  otherwise  a very  ordinary  structure,  more 
than  ordinarily  besoiled.  There  is  nothing 
rich  about  it ; not  much  that  is  imposing.  Yet 
in  spite  of  poverty  and  dirt  it  speaks  with  a 


^8  Zenhoji 

certain  grandeur  to  the  heart.  True  shrine, 
whose  odor  of  sanctity  is  as  widespread  as  the 
breeze  that  wanders  through  its  open  portals, 
and  which  comes  so  near  the  wants  of  the 
world  that  the  very  pigeons  flutter  in  to  homes 
among  its  rafters.  The  air-beats  of  their  wings 
heighten  the  hush  they  would  seem  to  break, 
and  only  enhance  the  sacred  quiet  of  the 
nave, —a  stillness  such  that  the  coppers  of 
the  faithful  fall  with  exaggerated  ring  through 
the  lattice  of  the  almsbox,  while  the  swiftly 
mumbled  prayers  of  the  givers  rise  in  all  sim- 
plicity straight  to  heaven. 

In  and  about  the  courtyard  live  the  sacred 
doves,  and  he  who  will  may  have  their  com- 
pany for  the  spreading  of  a feast  of  crumbs. 
And  the  rush  of  their  wings,  as  they  descend 
to  him  from  the  sky,  seems  like  drawing  some 
strange  benediction  down. 


V. 


No. 

My  quest  still  carrying  me  westward  along 
the  line  of  the  new  railway,  I took  the  train 
again,  and  in  the  compartment  of  the  carriage 
I found  two  other  travelers.  They  were  a 
typical  Japanese  couple  in  middle  life,  and  in 
something  above  middle  circumstances.  He 
affected  European  clothes  in  part,  while  she 
still  clung  to  the  costume  of  her  ancestors. 
Both  were  smoking,  — she  her  little  pipe,  and 
he  the  fashionable  cigarette.  Their  mutual  re- 
lations were  those  of  substance  to  shadow. 
She  followed  him  inevitably,  and  he  trod  on 
her  feelings  regardless  of  them.  She  had 
been  pretty  when  he  took  her  to  wife,  and 
though  worn  and  withered  she  was  happy  still. 


No 


50 

As  for  him,  he  was  quite  satisfied  with  her,  as 
he  would  have  been  quite  satisfied  without  her. 

The  roadbed  soon  left  the  Shinano  plain, 
across  which  peered  the  opposite  peaks,  still 
hooded  with  snow,  and  wound  up  through  a 
narrow  valley,  to  emerge  at  last  upon  a broad 
plateau.  Three  mountains  flanked  the  farther 
side  in  file,  the  last  and  highest  of  the  three, 
Myokosan,  an  extinct  volcano ; indeed,  hardly 
more  than  the  ruins  of  one.  Time  has  so 
changed  its  shape,  and  the  snow  whitens  its 
head  so  reverently,  it  would  be  possible  to  pass 
it  by  without  a suspicion  of  its  wild  youth. 
From  the  plateau  it  rose  proudly  in  one  long 
sweep  from  moor  to  shoulder,  from  shoulder  to 
crag,  from  crag  to  snow,  up  into  the  leaden 
sky,  high  into  its  second  mile  of  air.  Subtly 
the  curve  carried  fancy  with  it,  and  I found 
myself  in  mind  slowly  picking  my  way  upward, 
threading  an  a7'eie  here  and  scaling  a slope 
there,  with  all  the  feelings  of  a genuine  climb. 
While  I was  still  ascending  in  this  insubstantial 


No 


51 

manner,  clouds  fell  upon  the  summit  from  the 
sky,  and  from  the  summit  tumbled  down  the 
ravines  into  the  valley,  and  met  me  at  Nao- 
yetsu  in  a drizzling  rain. 

Naoyetsu  is  not  an  enlivening  spot  to  be 
landed  at  in  a stress  of  weather  ; hardly  satis- 
factory, in  fact,  for  the  length  of  time  needed 
to  hire  jinrikisha.  It  consisted  originally  of  a 
string  of  fishermen’s  huts  along  the  sea.  To 
these  the  building  of  the  railway  has  contribu- 
ted a parallel  row  of  reception  booths,  a hun- 
dred yards  in-shore  ; and  to  which  of  the  two 
files  to  award  the  palm  for  cheerlessness  it 
would  be  hard  to  know.  The  huts  are  good 
of  a kind  which  is  poor,  and  the  booths  are 
poor  of  a kind  which  is  good.  To  decide  be- 
tween such  rivals  is  a matter  of  mood.  For 
my  part,  I hasted  to  be  gone  in  a jinrikisha, 
itself  not  an  over-cheerful  conveyance  in  a 
pour. 

The  rain  shut  out  the  distance,  and  the  hood 
and  oil-paper  apron  eclipsed  the  foreground. 


52 


No 


The  loss  was  not  great,  to  judge  by  what  speci- 
mens of  the  view  I caught  at  inter\'als.  The 
landscape  was  a geometric  pattern  in  paddy- 
fields.  These,  as  yet  unplanted,  were  swim- 
ming in  water,  out  of  which  stuck  the  stumps 
of  last  year’s  crop.  It  was  a tearful  sight. 
Fortunately  the  road  soon  rose  superior  to 
it,  passed  through  a cutting,  and  came  out 
unexpectedly  above  the  sea,  — a most  homesick 
sea,  veiled  in  rain-mist,  itself  a disheartening 
drab.  The  cutting  which  ushered  us  somewhat 
proudly  upon  this  inhospitable  outlook  proved 
to  be  the  beginning  of  a pass  sixty  miles  long, 
between  the  Hida-Shinshiu  mountains  and  the 
sea  of  Japan. 

I was  now  to  be  rewarded  for  my  venture  in 
an  unlooked-for  way ; for  I found  myself  intro- 
duced here  to  a stretch  of  coast  worth  groins: 
many  miles  to  see. 

The  provinces  of  Hida  and  Etchiu  are  cut 
off  from  the  rest  of  Japan  by  sets  of  moun- 
tain ranges,  impassable  throughout  almost 


No  33 

their  whole  length.  So  bent  on  barring  the 
way  are  the  chains  that,  not  content  with  do- 
ing so  in  mid-course,  they  all  but  shut  it  at 
their  ocean  end  ; for  they  fall  in  all  their  en- 
tirety plumb  into  the  sea.  Following  one  an- 
other for  a distance  of  sixty  miles,  range  after 
range  takes  thus  its  header  into  the  deep. 
The  only  level  spots  are  the  deltas  deposited 
by  the  streams  between  the  parallels  of  peak. 
But  these  are  far  between.  Most  of  the  way 
the  road  belts  the  cliffs,  now  near  their  base, 
now  cut  into  the  precipice  hundreds  of  feet 
above  the  tide.  The  road  is  one  continuous 
observation  point.  Along  it  our  jinrikisha 
bowled.  In  spite  of  the  rain,  the  view  had  a 
grandeur  that  compensated  for  much  discom- 
fort. It  was,  moreover,  amply  diversified. 
Now  we  rushed  out  to  the  tip  of  some  high 
cape,  now  we  swung  round  into  the  curve  of 
the  next  bay ; now  we  wound  slowly  upward, 
now  we  slipped  merrily  down.  The  headlands 
were  endless,  and  each  gave  us  a seascape 


54 

differing  from  the  one  we  folded  out  of  sight 
behind  ; and  a fringe  of  foam,  curving  with  the 
coast,  stretched  like  a ribbon  before  us  to  mark 
the  way. 

We  halted  for  the  night  at  a fishing  village 
called  No  : two  lines  of  houses  hugging  the 
mountain  side,  and  a single  line  of  boats  drawn 
up,  stern  on,  upon  the  strand ; the  day  and 
night  domiciles  of  the  amphibious  strip  of  hu- 
manity, in  domestic  tiff,  turning  their  backs  to 
one  another,  a stone’s  throw  apart.  As  our 
kuruma  men  knew  the  place,  while  we  did  not, 
we  let  them  choose  the  inn.  They  pulled  up 
at  what  caused  me  a shudder.  I thought.  If 
this  was  the  best  inn,  what  must  the  worst 
be  like ! However,  I bowed  my  head  to  fate 
in  the  form  of  a rafter  lintel,  and  passed  in. 
A dim  light,  which  came  in  part  from  a hole  in 
the  floor,  and  in  part  from  an  ineffective  lamp, 
revealed  a lofty,  grotto-like  interior.  Over 
the  hole  hung  a sort  of  witches’  caldron, 
swung  by  a set  of  iron  bars  from  the  shadowy 


No 


55 

form  of  a soot-begrimed  rafter.  Around  the 
kettle  crouched  a circle  of  gnomes. 

Our  entrance  caused  a stir,  out  of  which  one 
of  the  gnomes  came  forward,  bowing  to  the 
ground.  When  he  had  lifted  himself  up 
enough  to  be  seen,  he  turned  out  quite  human. 
He  instantly  bustled  to  fetch  another  light, 
and  started  to  lead  the  strangers  across  the 
usual  slippery  sill  and  up  the  nearly  perpen- 
dicular stairs.  Why  I was  not  perpetually  fall- 
ing down  these  same  stairways,  or  sliding 
gracefully  or  otherwise  off  the  corridors  in  a 
heap,  will  always  be  a mystery  to  me.  Yet, 
with  the  unimportant  exception  of  sitting  down 
occasionally  to  put  on  my  boots,  somewhat 
harder  than  I meant,  I remember  few  such 
mishaps.  It  was  -not  the  surface  that  was  un- 
willing ; for  the  constant  scuffle  of  stocking 
feet  has  given  the  passageways  a polish  ma- 
hogany might  envy. 

The  man  proved  anything  but  inhuman,  and 
very  much  mine  host.  How  courteous  he  was. 


5<5  No 

and  in  what  a pleased  mind  with  the  world, 
even  its  whims  of  weather,  his  kind  attentions 
put  me  ! He  really  did  so  little,  too.  Beside 
numberless  bows  and  profuse  politeness,  he 
simply  laid  a small  and  very  thin  quilt  upon 
the  mats  for  me  to  sit  on,  and  put  a feeble 
brazier  by  my  side.  So  far  as  mere  comfort 
went,  the  first  act  savored  largely  of  superero- 
gation, as  the  mats  were  already  exquisitely 
clean,  and  the  second  of  insufficiency,  since 
the  brazier  served  only  to  point  the  cold  it  was 
powerless  to  chase.  But  the  manner  of  the 
doing  so  charmed  the  mind  that  it  almost  per- 
suaded the  grumbling  body  of  content. 

As  mine  host  bowed  himself  out,  a maid 
bowed  herself  in,  with  a tray  of  tea  and  sugar- 
plums, and  a grace  that  beggared  appreciation. 

“His  Augustness  is  well  come,”  she  said,  as 
she  sank  on  her  knees  and  bowed  her  pretty 
head  till  it  touched  the  mats ; and  the  voice 
was  only  too  human  for  heaven.  Unconsciously 
it  made  the  better  part  of  a caress. 


No 


57 

“ Would  his  Augustness  deign  to  take  some 
tea  ? Truly  he  must  be  very  tired  ; ” and,  pour- 
ing out  a cup,  she  placed  it  beside  me  as  it 
might  have  been  some  beautiful  rite,  and  then 
withdrew,  leaving  me,  beside  the  tea,  the  per- 
fume of  a presence,  the  sense  that  something 
exquisite  had  come  and  gone. 

I sat  there  thinking  of  her  in  the  abstract, 
and  wondering  how  many  maids  outside  Japan 
were  dowried  with  like  grace  and  the  like 
voice.  With  such  a one  for  cupbearer,  I could 
have  continued  to  sip  tea,  I thought,  for  the 
rest  of  my  natural,  or,  alas,  unnatural  existence. 

There  I stayed,  squatting  on  my  feet  on  the 
mats,  admiring  the  mimic  volcano  which  in 
the  orthodox  artistic  way  the  charcoal  was 
arranged  to  represent,  and  trying  my  best  to 
warm  myself  over  the  idea.  But  the  idea 
proved  almost  as  cold  comfort  as  the  brazier 
itself.  The  higher  aesthetic  part  of  me  was  in 
paradise,  and  the  bodily  half  somewhere  on  the 
chill  confines  of  outer  space.  The  spot  would 


^8  No 

no  doubt  have  proved  wholly  heaven  to  that 
witty  individual  who  was  so  anxious  to  ex- 
change the  necessities  of  life  for  a certainty 
of  its  luxuries.  For  here,  according  to  our 
scheme  of  things,  was  everything  one  had  no 
right  to  expect,  and  nothing  that  one  had. 
My  European  belongings  looked  very  gross 
littering  the  mats ; and  I seemed  to  myself  a 
boor  beside  the  unconscious  breeding  of  those 
about  me.  Yet  it  was  only  a poor  village  inn, 
and  its  people  were  but  peasants,  after  all. 

I pondered  over  this  as  I dined  in  solitary 
state ; and  when  I had  mounted  my  funeral 
pyre  for  the  night,  I remember  romancing 
about  it  as  I fell  asleep. 

I was  still  a knight-errant,  and  the  princess 
was  saying  all  manner  of  charming  things  to 
me  in  her  still  more  charming  manner,  when 
I became  aware  that  it  was  the  voice  of  the 
evening  before  wishing  me  good-morning.  I 
opened  my  eyes  to  see  a golden  gleam  flood- 
ing the  still-shut  s/iojz,  and  a diamond  glitter 


No 


59 

stealing  through  the  cracks  that  set  the  blood 
dancing  in  my  veins.  Then,  with  a startling 
clatter,  my  princess  rolled  the  panels  aside. 

Windows  are  but  half-way  shifts  at  best. 
The  true  good-morning  comes  afield,  and  next 
to  that  is  the  thrill  that  greets  the  throwing 
your  whole  room  wide  to  it.  To  let  it  trickle 
in  at  a casement  is  to  wash  in  a dish.  The 
true  way  is  to  take  the  sunshine  with  the 
shock  of  a plunge  into  the  sea,  and  feel  it  glow 
and  tingle  all  over  you. 

The  rain  had  taken  itself  off  in  the  night, 
and  the  air  sparkled  with  freshness.  The  tiny 
garden  court  lay  in  cool,  rich  shadow,  flecked 
here  and  there  with  spots  of  dazzle  where  a 
ray  reflected  found  a pathway  in,  while  the 
roofs  above  glistened  with  countless  star- 
points. 

Nor  was  mine  host  less  smiling  than  the 
day,  though  he  had  not  overcharged  me  for 
my  room.  I was  nothing  to  him,  yet  he  made 
me  feel  half  sorry  to  go.  A small  pittance. 


6o  No 

too,  the  tea  money  seemed,  for  all  that  had 
gone  with  it.  We  pay  in  this  v/orld  with 
copper  for  things  gold  cannot  buy.  Humani- 
ties are  so  cheap  — and  so  dear. 

The  whole  household  gathered  in  force  on 
its  outer  sill  to  wish  us  good  luck  as  we  took 
the  street,  and  threw  sayonaras  (“  if  it  must  be 
so  ”)  after  us  as  we  rolled  away. 

There  is  a touch  of  pathos  in  this  parting 
acquiescence  in  fate.  If  it  must  be  so,  indeed  ! 
I wonder  did  mine  host  suspect  that  I did  not 
all  leave,  — that  a part  of  me,  a sort  of  ghostly 
lodger,  remained  with  him  who  had  asked  me 
so  little  for  my  stay  Probably  in  body  I 
shall  never  stir  him  again  from  beside  his  fire, 
nor  follow  as  he  leads  the  way  through  the 
labyrinth  of  his  house ; but  in  spirit,  at  times, 
I still  steal  back,  and  I always  find  the  same 
kind  welcome  awaiting  me  in  the  guest  room 
in  the  ell,  and  the  same  bright  smile  of  morn- 
ing to  gild  the  tiny  garden  court.  The  only 
things  beyond  the  grasp  of  change  are  our  own 
memories  of  what  once  was. 


VI. 

On  a New  Cornice  Road. 

The  sunshine  quickened  us  all,  and  our 
kuruma  took  the  road  like  a flock  of  birds ; 
for  jinrikisha  men  in  company  run  as  wild 
geese  fly,  crisscross.  It  is  an  artistic  habit,  in- 
culcated to  court  ladies  in  books  on  etiquette. 
To  make  the  men  travel  either  abreast  or  in 
Indian  file,  is  simply  impossible.  After  a mo- 
ment’s conformity,  they  invariably  relapse  into 
their  own  orderly  disorder. 

This  morning  they  were  in  fine  figure  and 
bowled  us  along  to  some  merry  tune  within ; 
while  the  baby-carriages  themselves  jangled 
the  bangles  on  their  axles,  making  a pleasing 
sort  of  cry.  The  village  folk  turned  in  their 
steps  to  stare  and  smile  as  we  sped  past. 


62  On  a New  Cornice  Road 

It  was  a strange-appearing  street.  On  both 
sides  of  it  in  front  of  the  houses  ran  an  arcade, 
continuous  but  irregular,  a contribution  of 
building.  Each  house  gave  its  mite  in  the 
shape  of  a covered  portico,  which  fitted  as  well 
as  could  be  expected  to  that  of  its  next  door 
neighbor.  But  as  the  houses  were  not  of  the 
same  size,  and  the  ground  sloped,  the  roofs  of 
the  porticos  varied  in  level.  A similar  terra- 
cing held  good  of  the  floors.  The  result  was 
rather  a federation  than  a strict  union  of  in- 
terests. Indeed,  the  object  in  view  was  com- 
munal. For  the  arcades  were  snow  galleries, 
I was  told,  to  enable  the  inhabitants  in  win- 
ter to  pass  from  one  end  of  the  village  to 
the  other,  no  inconsiderable  distance.  They 
visored  both  sides  of  the  way,  showing  that 
then  in  these  parts  even  a crossing  of  the 
street  is  a thing  to  be  avoided.  Indeed,  by  all 
report  the  drifts  here  in  the  depth  of  winter 
must  be  worth  seeing.  Even  at  this  moment. 
May  the  6th,  there  was  still  neve  on  some  of 


On  a New  Cornice  Road 


63 

the  lowest  foothills,  and  we  passed  more  than 
one  patch  of  dirt-grimed  snow  buttressing  the 
highway  bank.  The  bangles  on  the  axles  now 
began  to  have  a meaning,  a thing  they  had 
hitherto  seemed  to  lack.  With  the  snow  ar- 
cades by  way  of  introduction  they  spoke  for 
themselves.  Evidently  they  were  first  cousins 
of  our  sleighbells.  Here,  then,  as  cordially  as 
with  us  man  abhors  an  acoustic  vacuum,  and 
when  Nature  has  put  her  icy  bell-glass  over 
the  noises  of  the  field,  he  must  needs  invent 
some  jingle  to  wile  his  ears  withal. 

Once  past  the  houses  we  came  upon  a strip 
of  paddyfields  that  bordered  the  mountain 
slope  to  the  very  verge  of  the  tide.  Some  of 
these  stood  in  spots  where  the  tilt  of  the  land 
would  have  seemed  to  have  precluded  even  the 
thought  of  such  cultivation.  For  a paddyfield 
must  be  perfectly  level,  that  it  may  be  kept 
under  water  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year. 
On  a slope,  therefore,  a thing  a paddyfield 
never  hesitates  to  scale,  they  rise  in  terraces. 


64  On  a New  Cornice  Road 

skyward.  Here  the  drop  was  so  great  that 
the  terraces  made  bastions  that  towered 
proudly  on  the  very  knife  - edge  of  decision 
between  the  seaweed  and  the  cliffs.  A runnel 
tamed  to  a bamboo  duct  did  them  Ganymede 
service.  For  a paddy  field  is  perpetually 
thirsty. 

It  was  the  season  of  repairing  of  dykes  and 
ditches  in  rice  chronology,  a much  more  com- 
plicated annal  than  might  be  thought.  This 
initial  stage  of  it  has  a certain  architectural 
interest.  Every  year  before  planting  begins 
the  dykes  have  all  to  be  re-made  strictly  in 
place,  for  they  serve  for  both  dams  and  bounds 
to  the  elaborately  partitioned  fields.  Adja- 
cent mud  is  therefore  carefully  plastered  over 
the  remains  of  the  old  dyke,  which,  to  the 
credit  of  the  former  builders,  is  no  small  frac- 
tion of  it,  and  the  work  then  finished  off  with 
a sculptor’s  care.  An  easier-going  peasantry 
might  often  forego  renewal.  Indeed,  I cannot 
but  think  the  farmers  take  a natural  delight 


On  a New  Cornice  Road  65 

in  this  exalted  form  of  mud  pies  ; they  work 
away  on  already  passable  specimens  with 
such  a will.  But  who  does  quite  outgrow  his 
childish  delights  ^ And  to  make  of  the  play 
of  childhood  the  work  of  middle  life,  must  be 
to  foil  the  primal  curse  to  the  very  letter. 
What  more  enchanting  pastime  than  to  wade 
all  day  in  viscous  mud,  hearing  your  feet  plash 
when  you  put  them  in,  and  suck  as  you  draw 
them  out ; while  the  higher  part  of  you  is 
busied  building  a parapet  of  gluey  soil,  smooth- 
ing it  down  on  the  sides  and  top,  and  crown- 
ing your  masterpiece  with  a row  of  sprigs 
along  the  crest  f And  then  in  the  gloaming 
to  trudge  homeward,  feeling  that  you  have 
done  a meritorious  deed  after  all  ! When  I 
come  to  my  second  childhood,  I mean  to  turn 
paddyfield  farmer  myself. 

Though  the  fields  took  to  the  slopes  so 
kindly,  they  had  a preference  for  plains.  In 
the  deltas,  formed  by  the  bigger  streams,  they 
expanded  till  they  made  chesswork  of  the 


66  On  a New  Cornice  Road 

whole.  Laborers  knee  deep  in  the  various 
squares  did  very  well  for  pawns.  The  fields 
being  still  in  their  pre-natal  stage,  were  not 
exactly  handsome.  There  was  too  much  of 
one  universal  brown.  This  was  relieved  only 
by  the  nurseries  of  young  plants,  small  fields 
here  and  there  just  showing  a delicate  downy 
growth  of  green,  delightful  to  the  eye.  They 
were  not  long  sown.  For  each  still  lay  cra- 
dled under  its  scarecrow,  a pole  planted  in  the 
centre  of  the  rectangle  with  strings  stretched 
to  the  four  corners,  and  a bit  of  rag  flutter- 
ing from  the  peak.  The  scarecrows  are,  no 
doubt,  useful,  since  they  are  in  general  use ; 
but  I counted  seven  sparrows  feeding  in  reck- 
less disregard  of  danger  under  the  very  wings 
of  one  of  the  contrivances. 

The  customs  of  the  country  seemed  doomed 
that  day  to  misunderstanding,  whether  by 
sparrows  or  by  bigger  birds  of  passage. 
Those  which  should  have  startled  failed  of 
effect,  and  those  which  should  not  have 


On  a New  Cornice  Road  6y 

startled,  did.  For,  on  turning  the  face  of 
the  next  bluff,  we  came  upon  a hamlet  ap- 
parently in  the  high  tide  of  conflagration. 
From  every  roof  volumes  of  smoke  were  roll- 
ing up  into  the  sky,  while  men  rushed  to  and 
fro  excitedly  outside.  I was  stirred,  myself, 
for  there  seemed  scant  hope  of  saving  the 
place,  such  headway  had  the  fire,  as  evidenced 
by  the  smoke,  already  acquired.  The  houses 
were  closed ; a wise  move  certainly  on  the 
score  of  draft,  but  one  that  precluded  a fight- 
ing of  the  fire.  I was  for  jumping  from  the 
jinrikisha  to  see,  if  not  to  do  something  my- 
self, when  I was  stopped  by  the  jinrikisha 
men,  who  coolly  informed  me  that  the  houses 
were  lime-kilns. 

It  appeared  that  lime-making  was  a specialty 
of  these  parts,  being,  in  fact,  the  alternative 
industry  to  fishing,  with  the  littoral  popula- 
tion ; the  farming  of  its  strip  of  ricefields 
hardly  counting  as  a profession,  since  such 
culture  is  second  nature  with  the  Far  Orien- 


68  On  a New  Comice  Road 

tal.  Lime -making  may  labor  under  objec- 
tions, considered  generically,  but  this  method 
of  conducting  the  business  is  susceptible  of 
advantageous  imitation.  It  should  commend 
itself  at  once  to  theatrical  managers  for  a bit 
of  stage  effect.  Evidently  it  is  harmless.  No 
less  evidently  it  is  cheap ; and  in  some  cases 
it  might  work  a double  benefit.  Impresarios 
might  thus  consume  all  the  public  statuary 
about  the  town  to  the  artistic  education  of 
the  community,  besides  producing  most  real- 
istic results  in  the  theatre. 

Through  the  courtesy  of  some  of  the  la- 
borers I was  permitted  to  enter  a small  kiln 
in  which  they  were  then  at  work.  I went  in 
cautiously,  and  came  out  with  some  haste,  for 
the  fumes  of  the  burning,  which  quite  filled 
the  place,  made  me  feel  my  intrusion  too 
poignantly.  I am  willing  to  believe  the  work 
thoroughly  enjoyable  when  once  you  become 
used  to  it.  In  the  meantime,  I should  choose 
its  alt,ernative,  — the  pleasures  of  a dirty  fish- 


On  a New  Cornice  Road  6g 

ing  boat  in  a nasty  seaway,  — if  I were  unfor- 
tunate enough  to  make  one  of  the  population. 
I like  to  breathe  without  thinking  of  it. 

The  charcoal  used  in  the  process  came,  they 
told  me,  from  Noto.  I felt  a thrill  of  pride  in 
hearing  the  land  of  my  courting  thus  distinc- 
tively spoken  of,  although  the  mention  were 
not  by  way  of  any  remarkable  merit.  At 
least  the  place  was  honorably  known  beyond 
its  own  borders ; had  in  fact  a certain  prestige. 
For  they  admitted  there  was  charcoal  in  their 
own  province,  but  the  best,  they  all  agreed, 
came  from  their  neighbor  over  the  sea.  They 
spoke  to  appreciative  ears.  I was  only  too 
ready  to  believe  that  the  best  of  anything  came 
from  Noto.  Did  they  lay  my  interest  to  the 
score  of  lime-making,  I wonder,  or  were  they 
in  part  undeceived  when  I asked  if  Noto  were 
visible  from  where  we  were  } 

“It  was,”  they  said,  “on  very  clear  days.” 
“ Did  I know  Noto  1 ” What  shall  a man  say 
when  questioned  thus  concerning  that  on 


70  On  a New  Cornice  Road 

which  he  has  set  his  heart  ? He  cannot  say- 
yes  ; shall  he  say  no  and  put  himself  without 
the  pale  of  mere  acquaintance  ? There  is  a 
sense  of  nearness  not  to  be  justified  to  an- 
other, and  the  one  to  whom  a man  may  feel 
most  kin  is  not  always  she  of  whom  he  knows 
the  most. 

“ I am  by  way  of  knowing  it,”  I said,  as 
my  eyes  followed  my  thoughts  horizonward. 
Was  it  all  mirage  they  saw  or  thought  to  see, 
that  faint  coastline  washed  a little  deeper  blue 
against  the  sky  1 I fear  me  so,  for  the  lime- 
burners  failed  to  make  it  out.  The  day  was 
not  clear  enough,  they  said. 

But  the  little  heap  of  charcoal  at  least  was 
real,  and  it  had  once  been  a tree  on  that  far- 
ther shore.  Charcoal  to  them,  it  was  no 
longer  common  charcoal  to  me ; for,  looking 
at  it,  was  I not  face  to  face  with  something 
that  had  once  formed  part  of  Noto,  the  un- 
known ! 


VII. 

Oya  Shiradiu,  Ko  Shiradiu. 

Toward  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  we 
reached  a part  of  the  coast  locally  famous  or 
infamous,  for  the  two  were  one ; a stretch 
of  some  miles  where  the  mountains  made  no 
apology  for  falling  abruptly  into  the  sea. 
Sheer  for  several  hundred  feet,  the  shore  is 
here  unscalable.  Nor  did  it  use  to  be  pos- 
sible to  go  round  by  land,  for  the  cliffs  are 
merely  the  ends  of  mountain  - chains,  them- 
selves utterly  wild  and  tractless.  A nar- 
row strip  of  strand  was  the  sole  link  between 
Etchiu  on  the  one  hand  and  Echigo  on  the 
other.  The  natives  call  the  place  Oya  shi- 
radzu,  ko  shiradzu,  that  is,  a spot  where  the 
father  no  longer  knows  the  child,  nor  the 


72  Oya  Shirad^u,  Ko  Shirad^ii 

child  the  father;  so  obliterating  to  sense  of 
all  beside  is  the  personal  danger.  Refuge 
there  is  none  of  any  kind.  To  have  been 
caught  here  in  a storm  on  the  making  tide, 
must  indeed  have  been  to  look  death  in  the 
face. 

Between  the  devil  of  a precipice  and  the 
deep  sea,  he  who  ventured  on  the  passage 
must  have  hurried  anxiously  along  the  thread 
of  sand,  hoping  to  reach  the  last  bend  in  time. 
As  he  rounds  the  ill-omened  corner  he  sees 
he  is  too  late  ; already  the  surf  is  breaking 
against  the  cliff.  He  turns  back  only  to  find 
retreat  barred  behind  by  rollers  that  have 
crept  in  since  he  passed.  His  very  footprints 
have  all  been  washed  away.  Caged  ! Like 
the  walls  of  a deep-down  dungeon  the  per- 
pendicular cliff  towers  at  his  side,  and  in  the 
pit  they  rim,  he  and  the  angry  ocean  are 
left  alone  together.  Then  the  sea  begins  to 
play  with  him,  creeping  catlike  up.  Her  huge 
paws,  the  breakers,  buffet  his  face.  The 


Oya  Shiradiii,  Ko  Shirad:{ii  7^ 
water  is  already  about  his  feet,  as  he  backs 
desperately  up  against  the  rock.  And  each 
wave  comes  crushing  in  with  a cruel  growl  to 
strike  — short  this  time.  But  the  next  breaks 
closer,  and  the  next  closer  still.  He  climbs  a 
boulder.  The  spray  blinds  him.  He  hears  a 
deafening  roar;  feels  a shock  that  hurls  him 
into  space,  and  he  knows  no  more. 

Now  the  place  is  fearful  only  to  fancy.  For 
a road  has  been  built,  belting  the  cliffs  hun- 
dreds of  feet  above  the  tide.  It  is  a part  of 
what  is  known  as  the  new  road,  a name  it  is 
likely  long  to  keep.  Its  sides  are  in  places  so 
steep  that  it  fails  of  its  footing  and  is  con- 
stantly slipping  off  into  the  sea.  Such  sad 
missteps  are  the  occasion  for  bands  of  convicts 
to  appear  on  the  scene  under  the  marshaling 
of  a police  officer  and  be  set  to  work  to  repair 
the  slide  by  digging  a little  deeper  into  the 
mountain-side.  The  convicts  wear  clothes  of 
a light  brick-color  which  at  a distance  looks  a 
little  like  couleiir  de  rose,  while  the  police  are 


7^  Oya  Shirad{u,  Ko  Shiradiu 

dressed  in  sombre  blue.  It  would  seem  some- 
what of  a satire  on  the  facts  ! 

The  new  road  is  not  without  its  sensation  to 
such  as  dislike  looking  down.  Fortunately, 
the  jinrikisha  men  have  not  the  instinct  of 
packmules  to  be  persistently  trifling  with  its 
outer  edge.  In  addition  to  the  void  at  the 
side,  another  showed  every  now  and  then  in 
front,  where  a dip  and  a turn  completely  hid 
the  road  beyond.  The  veritable  end  of  the 
world  seemed  to  be  there  just  ahead,  close 
against  the  vacancy  of  space.  A couple  of 
rods  more  and  we  must  step  off  — indeed  the 
end  of  the  world  for  us  if  we  had. 

When  the  road  came  to  face  the  Oya  shi- 
radzu,  ko  shiradzu,  it  attacked  the  rise  by 
first  running  away  from  it  up  a stream  into 
the  mountains ; a bit  of  the  wisdom  of  the 
serpent  that  enabled  it  to  gain  much  height 
on  the  bend  back.  Trees  vaulted  the  way 
tapestrying  it  with  their  leaves,  between 
which  one  caught  peeps  at  the  sea,  a shim- 


Oya  Shiradiu,  Ko  Sbiradiu  75 

mer  of  blue  through  a shimmer  of  green. 
The  path  was  strung  with  pedlars  and  pil- 
grims ; the  latter  of  both  sexes  and  all  ages, 
under  mushroom  hats  with  their  skirts  neatly 
tucked  in  at  the  waist,  showing  their  leg- 
gings ; the  former  doing  fulcrum  duty  to  a 
couple  of  baskets  swung  on  a pole  over  their 
shoulders.  The  pilgrims  were  on  their  way 
back  from  Zenkoji.  Some  of  them  would 
have  tramped  over  two  hundred  miles  on 
foot  before  they  reached  home  again.  A 
rich  harvest  they  brought  back,  religion, 
travel,  and  exercise  all  in  one,  enough  to 
keep  them  happy  long.  I know  of  nothing 
which  would  more  persuade  me  to  be  a Bud- 
dhist than  these  same  delightful  pilgrimages. 
Fresh  air,  fresh  scenes  on  the  road,  and  fresh 
faith  at  the  end  of  it.  No  desert  caravan  of 
penance  to  these  Meccas,  but  a summer’s 
stroll  under  a summer’s  sky.  An  end  that 
sanctifies  the  means  and  a means  that  no 
less  justifies  its  end. 


y6  Oya  Shirad^u,  Ko  Shirad{u 

While  we  were  still  in  the  way  with  these 
pious  folk  we  touched  our  midday  halt,  a way- 
side  teahouse  notched  in  a corner  of  the  road 
commanding  a panoramic  view  over  the  sea. 
The  place  was  kept  by  a deaf  old  lady  and  her 
tailless  cat.  The  old  lady’s  peculiarity  was 
personal ; the  cat’s  was  not.  No  self-respect- 
ing cat  in  this  part  of  Japan  could  possibly 
wear  a tail.  The  northern  branch  of  the  fam- 
ily has  long  since  discarded  that  really  useless 
feline  appendage.  A dog  in  like  circumstance 
would  be  sadly  straitened  in  the  expression 
of  his  emotions,  but  a cat  is  every  whit  a cat 
without  a continuation. 

With  the  deaf  old  lady  we  had,  for  obvious 
reasons,  no  sustained  conversation.  She  busied 
herself  for  the  most  part  in  making  dango,  a 
kind  of  dumpling,  but  not  one  calculated  to 
stir  curiosity,  since  it  is  made  of  rice  all 
through.  These  our  men  ate  with  more  relish 
than  would  seem  possible.  Meanwhile  I sat 
away  from  the  road  where  I could  look  out 


Oya  Shir  ad lu,  Ko  Shiradiii  yj 
upon  the  sea  over  the  cliffs,  and  the  cat  purred 
about  in  her  offhand  way  and  used  me  inci- 
dentally as  a rubbing  post.  Trees  fringed  the 
picture  in  front,  and  the  ribbon  of  road  wound 
off  through  it  into  the  distance,  beaded  with 
folk,  and  shot  with  sunshine  and  shadow. 

I was  sorry  when  lunch  was  over  and  we 
took  leave  of  our  gentle  hostesses;  tabbies 
both  of  them,  yet  no  unpleasing  pair.  A few 
more  bends  brought  us  to  where  the  path  cul- 
minated. The  road  had  for  some  time  lain 
bare  to  the  sea  and  sky,  but  at  the  supreme 
point  some  fine  beeches  made  a natural  screen 
masking  the  naked  face  of  the  precipice.  On 
the  cutting  above,  four  huge  Chinese  charac- 
ters stood  graved  in  the  rock. 

“ Ya  no  gotoku,  to  no  gotoshi.” 

“ Smooth  as  a whetstone,  straight  as  an 
arrow,  meaning  the  cliff.  Perhaps  because 
of  their  pictorial  descent,  the  characters  did 
not  shock  one.  Unlike  the  usual  branding  of 
nature,  they  seemed  not  out  of  keeping  with 


7§  Ova  Shiradiu,  Ko  Shirad^u 

the  spot.  Not  far  beyond,  the  butts  of  the 

winter’s  neve,  buried  in  dirt,  banked  the  path. 

For  miles  along  the  road  the  view  off  was 
superb.  Nothing  bordered  one  side  of  the  way 
and  the  mountain  bordered  the  other.  Far  be- 
low lay  the  sea,  stretching  away  into  blue  infin- 
ity, a vast  semicircle  of  ultramarine  domed  by 
a hemisphere  of  azure  ; and  it  was  noticeable 
how  much  vaster  the  sea  looked  than  the  sky. 
We  were  so  high  above  it  that  the  heavings  of 
its  longer  swells  were  leveled  to  imperceptibil- 
ity,  while  the  waves  only  graved  the  motion- 
less surface.  Here  and  there  the  rufflings  of 
a breeze  showed  in  darker  markings,  like  the 
changes  on  watered  silk.  The  most  ephemeral 
disturbance  made  the  most  show.  Dotted 
over  the  blue  expanse  were  black  spots,  fish- 
ing boats ; and  a steamer  with  a long  trail  of 
smoke  showed  in  the  offing,  stationary  to  the 
eye,  yet  shifting  its  place  like  the  shadow  of  a 
style  when  you  forgot  to  look.  And  in  long 
perspective  on  either  hand  stretched  the  bat- 


Oya  Shiraditi,  Ko  Shiradiu  "jg 
tlement  of  cliff.  Visual  immensity  lay  there 
before  us,  in  each  of  its  three  manifestations ; 
of  line,  of  surface,  and  of  space. 

We  stood  still,  the  better  to  try  to  take  it 
in  — this  grandeur  tempered  by  sunshine  and 
warmth.  Do  what  he  will,  man  is  very  much 
the  creature  of  his  surroundings  yet.  In 
some  instant  sense,  the  eyes  fashion  the  feel- 
ings, and  we  ourselves  grow  broader  with 
our  horizon’s  breadth.  The  Chaldean  shep- 
herds alone  with  the  night  had  grander 
thoughts  for  the  companionship,  and  I venture 
to  believe  that  the  heart  of  the  mountaineer 
owes  quite  as  much  to  what  he  is  forced  to 
visage  as  to  what  he  is  compelled  to  do. 

We  tucked  ourselves  into  our  jinrikisha  and 
started  down.  By  virtue  of  going,  the  speed 
increased,  till  the  way  we  rolled  round  the 
curves  was  intoxicating.  The  panorama  below 
swung  to  match,  and  we  leaned  in  or  out  me- 
chanically to  trim  the  balance.  Occasionally, 
as  it  hit  some  stone,  the  vehicle  gave  a lurch 


8o  Oya  Shiradiu,  Ko  Shiradiu 

that  startled  us  for  a moment  into  sobriety, 
from  which  we  straightway  relapsed  into  ex- 
hilaration. Curious  this,  how  the  body  brings 
about  its  own  forgetting.  For  I was  conscious 
only  of  mind,  and  yet  mind  was  the  one  part  of 
me  not  in  motion.  I suppose  much  oxygen 
made  me  tipsy.  If  so,  it  is  a recommendable 
tipple.  Spirits  were  not  unhappily  named 
after  the  natural  article. 

It  was  late  afternoon  when  we  issued  at 
last  from  our  two  days  Thermopylae  upon  the 
Etchiu  plain.  As  we  drew  out  into  its  ex- 
panse, the  giant  peaks  of  the  Tateyama  range 
came  into  view  from  behind  their  foothills, 
draped  still  in  their  winter  eimine.  It  was  last 
year  yet  in  those  upper  regions  of  the  world, 
but  all  about  us  below  throbbed  with  the 
heartbeats  of  the  spring.  At  each  mile,  amid 
the  ever  lengthening  shadows,  nature  seemed 
to  grow  more  sentient.  Through  the  thick  air 
the  peaks  stood  out  against  the  eastern  sky, 
in  saffron  that  flushed  to  rose  and  then  paled 


Oya  Shiradiu,  Ko  Shiradiu  8i 

to  gray.  The  ricefields,  already  flooded  for 
their  first  working,  mirrored  the  glow  overhead 
so  glassily  that  their  dykes  seemed  to  float,  in 
sunset  illusion,  a mere  bar  tracery  of  earth 
between  the  sky  above  and  a sky  beneath. 
Upon  such  lattice  of  a world  we  journeyed 
in  mid-heaven.  Stealthily  the  shadows  gath- 
ered ; and  as  the  hour  for  confidences  drew  on, 
nature  took  us  into  hers.  The  trees  in  the 
twilight,  just  breaking  into  leaf,  stood  in 
groups  among  the  fields  and  whispered  low  to 
one  another,  nodding  their  heads  ; and  then 
from  out  the  shadow  of  the  May  evening 
came  the  croaking  of  the  frogs.  Strangely 
the  sound  fitted  the  hour,  with  its  like  touch 
of  mysterious  suggestion.  As  the  twilight  in- 
definite, it  perv'aded  everything,  yet  was  never 
anywhere.  Deafening  at  a distance,  it  hushed 
at  our  approach  only  to  begin  again  behind  us. 
Will-o’4he-wisp  of  the  ear,  infatuating  because 
forever  illusive  ! And  the  distance  and  the 
numbers  blended  what  had  perhaps  been 


82  Oya  Shirad^u,  Ko  Shirad^u 

harsh  into  a mellow  whole  that  filled  the 
gloaming  with  a sort  of  voice.  I began  to 
understand  why  the  Japanese  are  so  fond  of 
it  that  they  deem  it  not  unworthy  a place  in 
nature’s  vocal  pantheon  but  little  lower  than 
the  song  of  the  nightingale,  and  echo  its  senti- 
ment in  verse.  And  indeed  it  seems  to  me 
that  his  soul  must  be  conventionally  tuned  in 
whom  this  even-song  of  the  ricefields  stirs  no 
responsive  chord. 


VIII. 

Across  the  Etchiu  Delta. 

The  twilight  lingered,  and  the  road  threaded 
its  tortuous  course  for  miles  through  the  rice 
plain,  bordered  on  either  hand  by  the  dykes 
of  the  paddyfields.  Every  few  hundred  feet, 
we  passed  a farmhouse  screened  by  .clipped 
hedgerows  and  bosomed  in  trees  ; and  at 
longer  intervals  we  rolled  through  some  vil- 
lage, the  country  pike  becoming  for  the  time 
the  village  street.  The  land  was  an  archipel- 
ago of  homestead  in  a sea  of  rice.  But  the 
trees  about  the  dwellings  so  cut  up  the  view, 
that  for  the  moments  of  passing  the  mind  for- 
got it  was  all  so  flat  and  came  back  to  its 
ocean  in  surprise,  when  the  next  vista  opened 
on  the  sides. 


84  Across  the  Etcbiii  Delta 

Things  had  already  become  silhouettes  when 
we  dashed  into  lantern -lighted  Mikkaichi. 
We  took  the  place  in  form,  and  a fine  sensa- 
tion we  made.  What  between  the  shouts  of 
the  runners  and  the  clatter  of  the  chaises 
men,  women  and  children  made  haste  to  clear 
a track,  snatching  their  little  ones  back  and 
then  staring  at  us  as  we  swept  past.  Indeed, 
the  teams  put  their  best  feet  foremost  for 
local  effect,  and  more  than  once  came  within 
an  ace  of  running  over  some  urchin  who  either 
would  not  or  could  not  get  out  of  the  way. 
Fortunately  no  casualties  occurred.  For  it 
would  have  been  ignominious  to  have  been 
arrested  by  the  police  during  our  first  ten 
minutes  in  the  town,  not  to  speak  of  the  sad 
dampening  to  our  feelings  an  accident  would 
have  caused. 

In  this  mad  manner  we  dashed  up  the  long 
main  street.  We  were  forced  to  take  the  side, 
for  the  village  aqueduct  or  gutter  — it  served 
both  purposes  — monopolized  the  middle.  At 


Across  the  Etchiu  Delta  8^ 

short  intervals,  it  was  spanned  by  causeways 
made  of  slabs  of  stone.  Over  one  of  these  we 
made  a final  swirl  and  drew  up  before  the  inn. 
Then  our  shafts  made  their  obeisance  to  the 
ground. 

A warm  welcome  greeted  the  appeal.  A 
crowd  of  servants  came  rushing  to  the  front 
of  the  house  with  an  eye  to  business,  and  a 
crowd  of  village  folk  with  an  eye  to  pleasure 
closed  in  behind.  Between  the  two  fires  we 
stepped  out  and  entered  the  side  court,  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  one  audience  and  the 
chagrin  of  the  other.  But  it  is  impossible 
to  please  everybody. 

Fortunately  it  was  not  so  hard  to  please  us, 
and  certainly  the  inn  people  did  their  best ; 
for  they  led  the  way  to  what  formerly  were 
the  state  apartments,  that  part  of  the  house 
where  the  daimyo  of  Kaga  had  been  wont  to 
lodge  when  he  stopped  here  over  night  on  his 
journey  north.  Though  it  had  fallen  some- 
what into  disrepair,  it  was  still  the  place  of 


86  Across  the  Etchiu  Delta 

honor  in  the  inn,  and  therefore  politely  put  at 
the  service  of  one  from  beyond  sea.  There  I 
supped  in  solitary  state,  and  there  I slept  right 
royally  amid  the  relics  of  former  splendor, 
doubting  a little  whether  some  unlaid  ghost  of 
bygone  times  might  not  come  to  claim  his 
own,  and  oust  me  at  black  midnight  by  the 
rats,  his  retinue. 

But  nothing  short  of  the  sun  called  me  back 
to  consciousness  and  bade  me  open  to  the  tiny 
garden,  where  a pair  of  ducks  were  preening 
their  feathers  after  an  early  bath  in  their 
own  little  lake.  On  the  veranda  my  lake  al- 
ready stood  prepared ; a brass  basin  upon  a 
wooden  stand,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
country.  So  ducks  and  I dabbled  and  prinked 
in  all  innocence  in  the  garden,  which  might 
well  have  been  the  garden  of  Eden  for  any 
hint  it  gave  of  a world  beyond.  It  was  my 
fate,  too,  to  leave  it  after  the  same  manner. 
For  breakfast  over  we  were  once  more  of 
the  road. 


Across  the  Etchiu  Delta 
We  had  a long  day  of  it  before  us,  for  I pur- 
posed to  cross  the  Etchiu  delta  and  sleep  that 
night  on  the  threshold  of  my  hopes.  The  day, 
like  all  days  that  look  long  on  the  map,  proved 
still  longer  on  the  march.  Its  itinerary  diver- 
sified discomfort.  First  seventeen  miles  in 
kuruma,  then  a ferry,  then  a tramp  of  twelve 
miles  along  the  beach  through  a series  of  sand 
dunes  ; then  another  ferry,  and  finally  a second 
walk  of  seven  miles  and  a half  over  some  foot- 
hills to  top  off  with.  The  inexpensiveness  of 
the  transport  was  the  sole  relieving  feature  of 
the  day.  Not,  I mean,  because  the  greater 
and  worse  half  of  ths  journey  was  done  on  our 
own  feet,  but  because  of  the  cheap  charges 
of  the  chaises  and  even  of  the  porters.  To 
run  at  a dogtrot,  trundling  another  in  a baby 
carriage,  seventeen  miles  for  twenty  cents  is 
not,  I hold,  an  extortionate  price.  Certain  de- 
tails of  the  tariff,  however,  are  peculiar.  For 
instance,  if  two  ni'eri  share  the  work  by  run- 
ning tandem,  the  fare  is  more  than  doubled ; a 


88  Across  the  Etchiu  Delta 

ratio  in  the  art  of  proportion  surprising  at 
first.  Each  man  would  seem  to  charge  for 
being  helped.  The  fact  is,  the  greater  speed 
expected  of  the  pair  more  than  offsets  the  de- 
creased draft. 

Otherwise,  as  I say,  the  day  was  depressing. 
It  was  not  merely  the  tramp  through  the  sand 
dunes  that  was  regrettable,  though  heaven 
knows  I would  not  willingly  take  it  again. 
The  sand  had  far  too  hospitable  a trick  of 
holding  on  to  you  at  every  step  to  be  to  my 
liking.  Besides,  the  sun,  which  had  come  out 
with  summer  insistence,  chose  that  particular 
spot  for  its  midday  siesta,  and  lay  there  at  full 
length,  while  the  air  was  preternaturally  still. 
It  was  a stupidly  drows}''  heat  that  gave  no 
fillip  to  the  feet. 

But  such  discomfort  was  merely  by  the 
way.  The  real  trouble  began  at  Fushiki,  the 
town  on  the  farther  side  of  the  second  ferry. 
In  the  first  place  the  spcw  nad,  what  is  most 
uncommon  in  Japan,  a vc*y  sorry  look,  which 


Across  the  Etchiu  Delta  8g 

was  depressing  in  itself.  Secondly,  its  in- 
habitants were  much  too  busy  or  much  too 
unemployed,  or  both,  to  be  able  to  attend  to 
strangers  at  that  hour  of  the  afternoon.  Con- 
sequently it  was  almost-  impossible  to  get  any 
one  to  carry  the  baggage.  We  dispatched 
emissaries,  however.  By  good  luck  we  se- 
cured some  beer,  and  then  argued  ourselves 
dry  again  on  the  luggage  question.  The  emis- 
saries were  at  work,  we  were  assured,  and  at 
last  some  one  who  had  been  sent  for  was  said 
to  be  coming.  Still  time  dragged  on,  until 
finally  the  burden  bearers  turned  up,  and 
turned  out  to  be  — women. 

At  this  I rebelled.  The  situation  was  not 
new,  but  it  was  none  the  less  impossible. 
In  out-of-the-way  districts  I had  refused  offers 
of  the  kind  before.  For  Japanese  beasts  of 
burden  run  in  a decreasing  scale  as  follows, 
according  to  the  poverty  of  the  place : jin- 
rikisha,  horses,  bulls,  men,  women.  I draw 
my  line  at  the  last.  I am  well  aware  how 


go  Across  the  Etchiu  Delta 

absurd  the  objects  themselves  regard  such  a 
protective  policy,  but  I cling  to  my  prejudices. 
To  the  present  proffer  I was  adamant.  To 
step  jauntily  along  in  airy  unencumberedness 
myself,  while  a string  of  women  trudged 
wearily  after,  loaded  with  my  heavy  personal 
effects,  was  more  than  an  Anglo-Saxon  atti- 
tude towards  the  sex  could  stand.  I would 
none  of  them,  to  the  surprise  and  dismay  of 
the  inn  landlord,  and  to  the  no  slight  wonder 
of  the  women.  The  discarding  was  not  an 
easy  piece  of  work.  The  fair  ones  were  pres- 
ent at  it,  and  I have  no  doubt  misinterpreted 
the  motive.  For  women  have  a weakness  for 
a touch  of  the  slave-master  in  a man.  Beside, 
“ hell  hath  no  fury  like  a woman  scorned,” 
though  it  be  only  in  the  capacity  of  a porter. 
There  was  nothing  for  it,  however,  but  to  let  it 
go  at  that.  For  to  have  explained  with  more 
insistence  would  infallibly  have  deepened  their 
suspicions  of  wounded  vanity.  But  it  did 
seem  hard  to  be  obliged  to  feel  a brute  for 
refusing  to  be  one. 


Across  the  Etchiu  Delta  gr 

The  landlord,  thanks  to  my  importunities, 
managed  after  some  further  delay  to  secure  a 
couple  of  lusty  lads,  relatives,  I suspect,  of  the 
discarded  fair  ones,  and  with  them  we  event- 
ually set  out.  We  had  not  gone  far,  when  I 
came  to  consider,  unjustly,  no  doubt,  that  they 
journeyed  too  slow.  I might  have  thought 
differently  had  I carried  the  chattels  and  they 
the  purse.  I shuddered  to  think  what  the  sit- 
uation would  have  been  with  women,  for  then 
even  the  poor  solace  of  remonstrance  would 
have  been  denied.  As  it  was,  I spent  much 
breath  in  trying  to  hurry  them,  and  it  is 
pleasanter  now  than  it  was  then  to  reflect 
how  futilely.  For  I rated  them  roundly,  while 
they  accepted  my  verbal  goadings  with  the 
trained  stolidity  of  folk  who  were  used  to  it. 

When  at  last  we  approached  the  village  of 
our  destination,  which  bore  the  name  of  Himi, 
it  was  already  dusk,  and  this  with  the  long 
May  twilight  meant  a late  hour  before  we 
should  be  comfortably  housed.  Indeed,  I had 


Across  the  Etchiu  Delta 
been  quartered  in  anticipation  for  the  last  few 
miles,  and  was  only  awaiting  arrival  to  enter 
into  instant  possession  of  my  fancied  estate. 
Not  content  even  with  pure  insubstantiality, 
I had  interviewed  various  peojde  through 
Yejiro  on  the  subject.  First,  the  porters 
had  been  exhaustively  catechized,  and  then 
what  wayfarers  we  chanced  to  meet  had  been 
buttonholed  beside ; with  the  result  of  much 
contradictory  information.  There  seemed  to 
be  an  inn  which  was,  I will  not  say  good,  but 
the  best,  but  no  two  informants  could  agree  in 
calling  it  by  name.  One  thought  he  remem- 
bered that  the  North  Inn  was  the  place  to  go 
to;  another  that  he  had  heard  the  Wistaria 
House  specially  commended. 

All  doubts,  however,  were  set  at  rest  when 
we  reached  the  town.  For  without  the  slight- 
est hesitation,  every  one  of  the  houses  in 
question  refused  to  take  us  in.  The  una- 
nimity was  wonderful  considering  the  lack  of 
collusion.  Yejiro  and  I made  as  many  unsuc- 


Across  the  Etchiu  Delta  93 

cessful  applications  together  as  I could  stand. 
Then  I went  and  sat  down  on  the  sill  of  the 
first  teahouse  for  a base  of  operations  — I can- 
not say  for  my  headquarters,  because  that  is 
just  what  we  could  not  get  — and  gave  myself 
up  to  melancholy.  Meanwhile  Yejiro  ran- 
sacked the  town,  from  which  excursions  he 
returned  every  few  minutes  with  a fresh  re- 
fusal, but  the  same  excuse.  It  got  so  at  last 
I could  anticipate  the  excuse.  The  inn  was 
full  already  — of  assessors  and  their  victims. 
The  assessors  had  descended  on  the  spot,  it 
seemed,  and  the  whole  country-side  had  come 
to  town  to  lie  about  the  value  of  ita  land.  I 
only  wished  the  inhabitants  might  have  chosen 
some  other  time  for  false  swearing.  For  it 
was  a sad  tax  on  my  credulity. 

We  did  indeed  get  one  offer  which  I duly 
went  to  inspect,  but  the  outside  of  the  house 
satisfied  me.  At  last  I adopted  extreme  meas- 
ures. I sent  Yejiro  off  to  the  police  station. 
This  move  produced  its  effect. 


94  Across  the  Etchiu  Delta 

Even  at  home,  from  having  contrived  to 
keep  on  the  sunny  side  of  law  and  order,  my 
feelings  toward  the  police  are  friendly  enough 
for  all  practical  purposes  ; but  in  no  land  have 
I such  an  affectionate  regard  for  the  constabu- 
lary as  in  Japan.  Members  of  the  force  there, 
if  the  term  be  applicable  to  a set  of  students 
spectacled  from  over-study,  whose  strength  is 
entirely  moral,  never  get  you  into  trouble,  and 
usually  get  you  out  of  it.  One  of  their  chief 
charms  to  the  traveler  lies  in  their  open- 
sesame  effect  upon  obdurate  landlords.  In 
this  trick  they  are  wonderfully  successful. 

Having  given  ourselves  up  to  the  police, 
therefore,  we  were  already  by  way  of  being 
lodged,  and  that  quickly.  So  indeed  it  proved. 
In  the  time  to  go  and  come,  Yejiro  reappeared 
with  an  officer  in  civilian’s  clothes,  who  first 
made  profuse  apologies  for  presenting  himself 
in  undress,  but  it  seemed  he  was  off  duty  at 
the  moment,  — and  then  led  the  way  a stone's 
throw  round  the  corner ; and  in  five  minutes  I 


Across  the  Etchiu  Delta  93 

was  sitting  as  snugly  as  you  please  in  a capital 
room  in  an  inn’s  third  story,  sipping  tea  and 
pecking  at  sugar  plums,  a distinctly  honored 
guest. 

Here  fate  put  in  a touch  of  satire.  For  it 
now  appeared  that  all  our  trouble  was  quite 
gratuitous.  Most  surprisingly  the  innkeepers’ 
story  on  this  occasion  proved  to  be  entirely 
true,  a possibility  I had  never  entertained  for 
a second  ; and  furthermore  it  appeared  that 
our  present  inn  was  the  one  in  which  I had 
been  offered  rooms  but  had  refused,  dislikine: 
its  exterior. 

Such  is  the  reward  for  acting  on  general 
principles. 


IX. 


Over  the  Arayama  Pass. 

The  morning  that  was  to  give  me  my  self- 
promised  land  crept  on  tiptoe  into  the  room  on 
the  third  story,  and  touched  me  where  I slept, 
and  on  pushing  the  shoji  apart  and  looking 
out,  I beheld  as  fair  a day  as  heart  could  wish. 
A faint  misty  vapor,  like  a bridal  veil,  was  just 
lifting  from  off  the  face  of  things,  and  letting 
the  sky  show  through  in  blue-eyed  depths.  It 
was  a morning  of  desire,  bashful  for  its  youth 
as  yet,  but  graced  with  a depth  of  atmosphere 
sure  to  expand  into  a full,  warm,  perfect  noon  ; 
and  I hastened  to  be  out  and  become  a part 
of  it. 

Three  jinrikishas  stood  waiting  our  coming 
at  the  door,  and  amidst  a pelting  of  sayonara 


Over  the  Arayama  Pass  97 

from  the  whole  household,  we  dashed  off  as 
proudly  as  possible  down  the  main  street  of 
the  town,  to  the  admiration  of  many  lookers- 
on.  The  air,  laden  with  moisture,  left  kisses 
on  our  cheeks  as  we  hurried  by,  while  the  sun- 
shine fell  in  long  scarfs  of  gauzy  shimmer  over 
the  shoulders  of  the  eastern  hills.  The  men 
in  the  shafts  felt  the  fillip  of  it  all  and  en- 
couraged one  another  with  lusty  cries,  a light- 
heartedness that  lent  them  heels.  Even  the 
peasants  in  the  fields  seemed  to  wish  us  well, 
as  they  looked  up  from  their  work  to  grin 
good-humoredly. 

We  value  most  what  we  attain  with  diffi- 
culty. It  was  on  this  principle  no  doubt  that 
the  road  considerately  proceeded  to  give  out. 
It  degenerated  indeed  very  rapidly  after  losing 
sight  of  the  town,  and  soon  was  no  more  than 
a collection  of  holes  strung  on  ruts,  that  made 
travel  in  perambulators  tiring  alike  to  body 
and  soul.  At  last,  after  five  miles  of  floun- 
dering, it  gave  up  all  pretence  at  a wheel-way. 


g8  Over  the  Arayama  Pass 

and  deposited  us  at  a wayside  teahouse  at  the 
foot  of  a little  valley,  the  first  step  indeed  up 
the  Arayama  pass.  Low  hills  had  closed  in 
on  the  right,  shutting  off  the  sea,  and  the 
ridge  dividing  Noto  from  Etchiu  rose  in  higher 
lines  upon  the  left. 

Here  we  hired  porters,  securing  them  from 
the  neighboring  fields,  for  they  were  primarily 
peasants,  and  were  porters  only  as  we  were 
tramps,  by  virtue  of  the  country.  Porterage 
being  the  sole  means  of  transport,  they  came 
to  carry  our  things  as  they  would  have  carried 
their  own,  in  skeleton  hods  strapped  to  their 
backs.  In  this  they  did  not  differ  from  the 
Japanese  custom  generally ; but  in  one  point 
they  showed  a strange  advance  over  their  fel- 
lows. They  were  wonderfully  methodical  folk. 
They  paid  no  heed  to  our  hurry,  and  instead 
of  shouldering  the  baggage  they  proceeded  to 
weigh  it,  each  manload  by  itself,  on  a steel- 
yard of  wood  six  feet  long ; the  results  they 
then  worked  out  conscientiously  on  an  abacus. 


Over  the  Arayama  Pass  99 

After  which  I paid  accordingly.  Truly  an 
equitable  adjustment  between  man  and  man, 
at  which  I lost  only  the  time  it  took.  Then 
we  started. 

From  the  teahouse  the  path  rose  steadily 
enough  for  so  uneducated  a way,  leaving  the 
valley  to  contract  into  an  open  glen.  The 
day,  in  the  mean  time,  came  out  as  it  had 
promised,  full  and  warm,  fine  basking  weather, 
as  a certain  snake  in  the  path  seemed  to  think. 
So,  I judge,  did  the  porters.  If  it  be  the  pace 
that  kills,  these  simple  folk  must  be  a long- 
lived  race.  They  certainly  were  very  careful 
not  to  hurry  themselves.  Had  they  been 
hired  for  life,  so  thrifty  a husbanding  of  their 
strength  would  have  been  most  gratifying  to 
witness  ; unluckily  they  were  mine  only  for 
the  job.  They  moved,  one  foot  after  the  other, 
with  a mechanical  precision,  exhausting  even 
to  look  at.  To  keep  with  them  was  practically 
impossible  for  an  ordinary  pedestrian.  No- 
thing short  of  a woman  shopping  could  worthily 


loo  Over  the  Arayama  Pass 

have  matched  their  pace.  In  sight  their  speed 
was  snail-like  ; out  of  it  they  would  appear 
to  have  stopped,  so  far  did  they  fall  behind. 
Once  I thought  they  had  turned  back. 

The  path  we  were  following  was  the  least 
traveled  of  the  only  two  possible  entrances 
into  Noto  by  land.  It  was  a side  or  postern 
gate  to  the  place,  over  a gap  on  the  northern 
end  of  a mountain  wall  ; the  main  approach 
lying  along  its  other  flank.  For  a high  range 
of  uninhabited  hills  nearly  dams  the  peninsula 
across,  falling  on  the  right  side  straight  into 
the  sea,  but  leaving  on  the  other  a lowland 
ligature  that  binds  Noto  to  Kaga.  To  get 
from  Kaga  into  Etchiu,  the  range  has  to  be 
crossed  lower  down.  Our  dip  in  the  chain 
was  called  the  Arayama  t5ge  or  Rough  Moun- 
tain pass,  and  was  perhaps  fifteen  hundred 
feet  high,  but  pleasingly  modeled  in  its  lines 
after  one  ten  times  its  height. 

Half-way  up  the  tug  of  the  last  furlong, 
where  the  ascent  became  steep  enough  for  zig- 


Over  the  Arayama  Pass  loi 

zags,  I turned  to  look  back.  Down  away  from 
me  fell  the  valley,  slipping  by  reason  of  its  own 
slope  out  into  the  great  Etchiu  plain.  Here 
and  there  showed  bits  of  the  path  in  cork- 
screw, from  my  personal  standpoint  all  per- 
fectly porterless.  Over  the  low  hills,  to  the 
left,  lay  the  sea,  the  crescent  of  its  great 
beach  sweeping  grandly  round  into  the  indis- 
tinguishable distance.  Back  of  it  stretched 
the  Etchiu  plain,  but  beyond  that,  nothing. 
The  mountains  that  should  have  bounded  it 
were  lost  to  sight  in  the  spring  haze. 

Mechanically  my  eyes  followed  up  into  the 
languid  blue,  when  suddenly  they  chanced 
upon  a little  cloud,  for  cloud  I took  it  to  be. 
Yet  something  about  it  struck  me  as  strange, 
and  scanning  it  more  closely,  by  this  most  nat- 
ural kind  of  second  sight,  I marked  the  unmis- 
takable glisten  of  snow.  It  was  a snow  peak 
towering  there  in  isolated  majesty.  As  I 
gazed  it  grew  on  me  with  ineffable  grandeur, 
sparkling  with  a faint  saffron  glamour  of  its 


102  Over  the  Arayama  Pass 

own.  Shifting  my  look  a little  I saw  another 
and  then  another  of  the  visions,  like  puffs  of 
steam,  rising  above  the  plain.  Half  appari- 
tions, below  a certain  line,  the  snow  line,  they 
vanished  into  air,  for  between  them  and  the 
solid  earth  there  looked  to  be  blue  sky.  The 
haze  of  distance,  on  this  soft  May  day,  hid 
their  lower  slopes  and  left  the  peaks  to  tower 
alone  into  the  void.  They  were  the  giants  of 
the  Tateyama  range,  standing  there  over 
against  me  inaccessibly  superb. 

A pair  of  teahouses,  rivals,  crowned  the 
summit  of  the  pass,  which,  like  most  Japanese 
passes,  was  a mere  knife-edge  of  earth.  With 
a quickened  pulse  if  a slackened  gait,  I topped 
the  crest,  walked  — straight  past  the  twin  tea- 
houses and  their  importunities  to  stop  — an- 
other half-dozen  paces  to  the  brink,  and  in  one 
sweep  looked  down  over  a thousand  feet  on 
the  western  side.  Noto,  ey clashed  by  the 
branches  of  a tree  just  breaking  into  leaf,  lay 
open  to  me  below. 


Over  the  Arayama  Pass  loj 

After  the  first  glow  of  attainment,  this  ini- 
tial view  was,  I will  confess,  disillusioning. 
Instead  of  what  unfettered  fancy  had  led  me 
to  expect,  I saw  only  a lot  of  terraced  rice- 
fields  backed  by  ranges  of  low  hills;  for  all 
the  world  a parquet  in  green  and  brown  tiles. 
And  yet,  as  the  wish  to  excuse  prompted  me 
to  think,  was  this  not,  after  all,  as  it  should 
be  > For  I was  looking  but  at  the  entrance  to 
the  land,  its  outer  hallway,  as  it  were  ; Nanao, 
its  capital,  its  inland  sea,  all  its  beyond  was 
still  shut  from  me  by  the  nearer  hills.  ' And 
feeling  thus  at  liberty  to  be  amused,  I forth- 
with saw  it  as  a satire  on  panoramas  gene- 
rally. 

Panoramic  views  are  painfully  plain.  They 
must  needs  be  mappy  at  best,  for  your  own 
elevation  flattens  all  below  it  to  one  topo- 
graphic level.  Field  and  woodland,  town  or 
lake,  show  by  their  colors  only  as  if  they  stood 
in  print  ; and  you  might  as  well  lay  any  good 
atlas  on  the  floor  and  survey  it  from  the  lofty 


104  Arayama  Pass 

height  of  a footstool.  Such  being  the  inevita- 
ble, it  was  refreshing  to  see  the  thing  in  cari- 
cature. No  pains,  evidently,  had  been  spared 
by  the  inhabitants  to  make  their  map  real- 
istic. There  the  geometric  lines  all  stood  in 
ludicrous  insistence  ; any  child  could  have 
drawn  the  thing  as  mechanically. 

The  two  teahouses  were  well  patronized  by 
wayfarers  of  both  sexes,  resting  after  their 
climb.  Some  simply  sipped  tea,  chatting , 
others  made  a regular  meal  of  the  opportunity. 
The  greater  number  sat,  as  we  did,  on  the  sill, 
for  the  trouble  of  taking  off  their  straw  san- 
dals. Our  landlady  was  the  model  of  what  a 
landlady  should  be,  for  it  was  apparently  a 
feminine  establishment.  If  there  was  a man 
attached  to  it,  he  kept  himself  discreetly  in 
the  background.  She  was  a kind,  sympathetic 
soul,  with  a word  for  every  one,  and  a deliber- 
ateness of  action  as  effective  as  it  was  efficient. 
And  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  she  kept  up  a re- 
frain of  welcomes  and  good-bys,  as  newcomers 


Over  the  Arayama  Pass  /05 

appeared  or  old  comers  left.  The  unavoidable 
preliminary  exercise  and  the  crisp  air  whetted 
all  our  appetites.  So  I doubt  not  she  drove  a 
thriving  trade,  although  to  Western  ideas  of 
value  her  charges  were  infinitesimally  small. 

Midday  halts  for  lunch  are  godsends  to 
tramps  who  travel  with  porters.  They  com- 
pel the  porters  to  catch  up,  and  give  the  hirer 
opportunity  to  say  things  which  at  least  re- 
lieve him,  if  they  do  no  good.  I had  begun 
to  fear  ours  would  deprive  me  of  this  pleasure, 
and  indeed  had  got  so  far  on  in  my  meal  as 
to  care  little  whether  they  did,  when  automati- 
cally they  appeared.  Fortunately  they  needed 
but  a short  rest,  and  as  the  descent  on  the 
Noto  side  was  much  steeper  than  on  the  other, 
half  an  hour’s  walk  brought  us  to  the  level  of 
kuruma  once  more. 

A bit  of  lane  almost  English  in  look,  bow- 
ered  in  trees  and  winding  delightfully  like 
some  human  stream,  led  us  to  a teahouse. 
While  we  were  ordering  chaises  a lot  of  chil- 


io6  Over  the  Arayama  Pass 

dren  gathered  to  inspect  us,  thus  kindly  giv- 
ing us  our  first  view  of  the  natives.  They 
looked  more  open-eyed  than  Japanese  gene- 
rally, but  such  effect  may  have  been  due  to 
wonder.  At  all  events,  the  stare,  if  it  was  a 
stare,  seemed  like  a silent  sort  of  welcome. 

Leaving  the  children  still  gazing  after  us 
we  bowled  away  toward  Nanao,  and  in  the 
course  of  time  caught  our  first  glimpse  of  it 
from  the  upper  end  of  a sweep  of  meadows. 
It  sat  by  the  water’s  edge  at  the  head  of  a 
landlocked  bay,  the  nearer  arm  of  the  inland 
sea ; and  an  apology  for  shipping  rode  in  the 
offing.  It  seemed  a very  fair-sized  town,  and 
altogether  a more  lively  place  than  I had 
thought  to  find.  Clearly  its  life  was  as  en- 
grossing to  it  as  if  no  wall  of  hills  notching 
the  sky  shut  out  the  world  beyond.  Having 
heard,  however,  that  a watering-place  called 
Wakura  was  the  sight  of  the  province,  and 
learning  now  that  it  was  but  six  miles  further, 
we  decided,  as  it  was  yet  early  in  the  after- 


Over  the  Arayama  Pass  loy 

noon,  to  push  on,  and  take  the  capital  later. 
We  did  take  it  later,  very  much  later  the  next 
night,  than  was  pleasing. 

Wakura,  indeed,  was  the  one  thing  in  Noto, 
except  the  charcoal,  which  had  an  ultra-Noto- 
rious  reputation.  Rumors  of  it  had  reached 
us  as  far  away  as  Shinshiu,  and  with  every 
fresh  inquiry  we  made  as  we  advanced  the  ru- 
mors had  gathered  strength.  Our  informants 
spoke  of  it  with  the  vague  respect  accorded 
hearsay  honor.  Clearly,  it  was  no  place  to 
pass  by. 

The  road  to  it  from  Nanao  was  not  note- 
worthy, but  for  two  things  ; one  officially  com- 
mended to  sight-seers,  the  other  not.  The 
first  was  a curious  water-worn  rock  upon  the 
edge  of  the  bay,  some  waif  of  a boulder,  doubt- 
less, since  it  stuck  up  quite  alone  out  of  the 
sand.  A shrine  perched  atop,  and  a larger 
temple  encircled  it  below,  to  which  its  fantas- 
tic cuttings  served  as  gateway  and  garden. 
The  uncommended  sight  was  a neighboring 


loS  Over  the  Arayama  Pass 

paddyfield,  in  which  a company  of  frogs, 
caught  trespassing,  stood  impaled  on  sticks  a 
foot  high,  as  awful  warnings  to  their  kind.  Be- 
yond this  the  way  passed  through  a string  of 
clay  cuttings  following  the  coast,  and  in  good 
time  rolled  us  into  the  midst  of  a collection  of 
barnlike  buildings  which  it  seemed  was  Wa- 
kura. 

The  season  for  the  baths  had  not  yet  begun, 
so  that  the  number  of  people  at  the  hotels 
was  still  quite  small.  Not  so  the  catalogue  of 
complaints  for  which  they  were  visited.  The 
list  appalled  me  as  I sat  on  the  threshold  of 
my  prospective  lodging,  listening  to  mine 
host’s  encomiums  on  the  virtues  of  the  waters. 
He  expatiated  eloquently  on  both  the  quan- 
tity and  quality  of  the  cures,  quite  unsuspi- 
cious that  at  each  fresh  recommendation  he 
was  in  my  eyes  depreciating  his  own  wares. 
Did  he  hope  that  among  such  a handsome 
choice  of  diseases  I might  at  least  have  one  ! 
I was  very  near  to  beating  a hasty  retreat  on 


Over  the  Arayama  Pass  109 

the  spot.  For  the  accommodation  in  Japanese 
inns  is  of  a distressingly  communistic  charac- 
ter at  best,  and  although  at  present  there  were 
few  patients  in  the  place,  the  germs  were  pre- 
sumably still  there  on  the  lookout  for  a victim. 

Immediate  comfort,  however,  getting  the 
better  of  problematical  risk,  I went  in.  The 
room  allotted  me  lay  on  the  ground  floor  just 
off  the  garden,  and  I had  not  been  there  many 
minutes  before  I became  aware,  as  one  does, 
that  I was  being  stared  at.  The  culprit  in- 
stantly pretended,  with  a very  sheepish  air,  to 
be  only  taking  a walk.  He  was  the  vanguard 
of  an  army  of  the  curious.  The  people  in  the 
next  room  were  much  exercised  over  the  new 
arrival,  and  did  all  decency  allowed  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  me ; for  which  in  time  they  were 
rewarded.  Visitors  lodged  farther  off  took 
aimless  strolls  to  the  verandas,  and  looked  at 
me  when  they  thought  I was  not  looking  at 
them.  All  envied  the  servants,  who  out-did 
Abra  by  coming  when  I called  nobody,  and 


iio  Over  the  Arayama  Pass 

then  lingering  to  talk.  Altogether  I was  more 
of  a notoriety  than  I ever  hope  to  be  again  ; 
especially  as  any  European  would  have  done 
them  as  well.  My  public  would  have  been 
greater,  as  I afterwards  learned,  if  Yejiro  had 
not  been  holding  rival  court  in  the  kitchen. 

Between  us  we  were  given  a good  deal  of 
local  information.  One  bit  failed  to  cause 
me  unmitigated  delight.  We  were  not,  it  ap- 
peared, the  first  foreigners  to  set  foot  in  Wa- 
kura.  Two  Europeans  had,  in  a quite  uncalled- 
for  way,  descended  upon  the  place  the  summer 
before,  up  to  which  time,  indeed,  the  spot  had 
been  virgin  to  Caucasians.  Lured  by  the 
fame  of  the  springs,  these  men  had  come  from 
Kanazawa  in  Kaga,  where  they  were  engaged 
in  teaching  chemistry,  to  make  a test  of  the 
waters,  I believe  they  discovered  nothing 
startling.  I could  have  predicted  as  much  had 
they  consulted  me  beforehand.  They  neglected 
to  do  so,  and  the  result  was  they  came,  saw  and 
conquered  what  little  novelty  the  place  had.  I 


Over  the  Arayama  Pass  /// 

was  quite  chagrined.  It  simply  showed  how 
betrodden  in  these  latter  days  the  world  is. 
There  is  not  so  much  as  a remote  corner  of  it 
but  falls  under  one  of  two  heads  ; those  places 
worth  seeing  which  have  already  been  seen, 
and  those  that  have  not  been  seen  but  are  not 
worth  seeing.  Wakura  Onsen  struck  me  as 
falling  into  the  latter  halves  of  both  categories. 

While  discussing  my  solitary  dinner  I was 
informed  by  Yejiro  that  some  one  wished  to 
speak  with  me,  and  on  admitting  to  be  at 
home,  the  local  prefect  was  ushered  in.  He 
came  ostensibly  to  vise  my  passport,  a duty 
usually  quite  satisfactorily  performed  by  any 
policeman.  The  excuse  was  transparent.  He 
really  came  that  he  might  see  for  himself  the 
foreigner  whom  rumor  had  reported  to  have  ar- 
rived. As  a passport  on  his  part  he  presented 
me  with  some  pride  the  bit  of  autobiography 
that  he  had  himself  once  been  in  Tokyo  ; a 
fact  which  in  his  mind  instantly  made  us  a 
kind  of  brothers,  and  raised  us  both  into  a 


112  Over  the  Arayama  Pass 

common  region  of  superiority  to  our  surround- 
ings. He  asked  affectionately  after  the  place, 
and  I answered  as  if  it  had  been  the  one 
thought  in  both  our  hearts.  It  was  a pleasing 
little  comedy,  as  each  of  us  was  conscious  of 
its  consciousness  by  the  other.  Altogether 
we  were  very  friendly. 

Between  two  such  Tokyoites  it  was,  of 
course,  the  merest  formality  to  vise  a passport, 
but  being  one  imposed  by  law  he  kindly  ran 
his  eye  over  mine.  As  it  omitted  to  describe 
my  personal  appearance  in  the  usual  carefully 
minute  manner,  as  face  oval,  nose  ordinary, 
complexion  medium,  and  so  forth,  identifica- 
tion from  mere  looks  was  not  striking.  So  he 
had  to  take  me  on  trust  for  what  I purported 
to  be,  an  assumption  which  did  not  disconcert 
him  in  the  least.  With  writing  materials 
which  he  drew  from  his  sleeve,  he  registered 
me  then  and  there,  and,  the  demands  of  the 
law  thus  complied  with  to  the  letter,  left  me 
amid  renewed  civilities  to  sleep  the  sleep  of 
the  just. 


X. 

An  Inland  Sea. 

They  had  told  us  overnight  that  a small 
steamer  plied  every  other  day  through  Noto’s 
unfamed  inland  sea,  leaving  the  capital  early 
in  the  morning,  and  touching  shortly  after  at 
Wakura.  As  good  luck  would  have  it,  the 
morrow  happened  not  to  be  any  other  day,  so 
we  embraced  the  opportunity  to  embark  in  her 
ourselves.  On  her,  it  would  be  more  accurate 
to  say,  for  she  proved  such  a mite  that  her 
cabin  was  barely  possible  and  anything  but  de- 
sirable. By  squatting  down  and  craning  my 
neck  I peered  in  at  the  entrance,  a feat  which 
was  difficult  enough.  She  was,  in  truth,  not 
much  bigger  than  a ship’s  gig;  but  she  had 
a soul  out  of  all  proportion  to  her  size.  The 


An  Inland  Sea 


IJ4 

way  it  throbbed  and  strained  and  set  her  whole 
little  frame  quivering  with  excitement,  made 
me  think  every  moment  that  she  was  about 
to  explode.  The  fact  that  she  wais  manned 
exclusively  by  Japanese  did  not  entirely  reas- 
sure me. 

There  was  an  apology  for  a deck  forward,  to 
which,  when  we  were  well  under  way,  I clam- 
bered over  the  other  passengers.  I was  just 
sitting  down  there  to  enjoy  a comfortable  pipe 
when  I was  startlingly  requested  by  a voice 
from  a caboose  behind  to  move  off,  as  I was 
obscuring  the  view  of  the  man  at  the  wheel. 
After  that  I perched  on  the  gunwale. 

We  steamed  merrily  out  into  the  middle  of 
the  bay.  The  water  was  slumberously  smooth, 
and  under  the  tawny  haze  of  the  morning  it 
shone  with  the  sheen  of  burnished  brass. 
From  the  gentle  plowing  of  our  bow  it  rolled 
lazily  to  one  side,  as  if  in  truth  it  were  molten 
metal.  Land,  at  varying  picturesque  distances, 
lay  on  all  sides  of  us.  In  some  directions  the 


An  Inland  Sea 


“5 

shore  was  not  more  than  a mile  and  a half  off ; 
in  others,  the  eye  wandered  down  a vista  of 
water  framed  by  low  headlands  for  ten  miles 
or  more.  But  the  atmosphere  gave  the  domi- 
nant thought,  a strange  slumber-like  seclusion. 
So  rich  and  golden,  it  shut  this  little  corner  of 
the  world  in  a sort  of  happy  valley  of  its  own, 
and  the  smoke  from  my  pipe  drifted  dreamily 
astern,  a natural  incense  to  the  spirits  of  the 
spot. 

The  passengers  suggested  anything,  from  a 
public  picnic  to  an  early  exploration  party. 
There  were  men,  women  and  children  of  all 
ages  and  kinds,  some  stowed  away  in  the 
cabin  behind,  some  gathered  in  groups  amid- 
ships ; and  those  in  the  cabin  thought  small 
fry  of  those  on  deck.  The  cabin  was  con- 
sidered the  place  of  honor  because  the  com- 
pany made  one  pay  a higher  price  for  the 
privilege  of  its  discomfort.  Altogether  it  was 
a very  pretty  epitome  of  a voyage. 

Just  as  the  steamer  people  were  preparing 


ii6  An  Inland  Sea 

for  their  first  landing,  there  detached  itself 
from  the  background  of  trees  along  the  shore 
the  most  singular  aquatic  structure  I think  I 
have  ever  seen.  It  looked  like  the  skeleton  of 
some  antediluvian  wigwam  which  a prehistoric 
roc  had  subsequently  chosen  for  a nest.  Four 
poles  planted  in  the  water  inclined  to  one  an- 
other at  such  an  angle  that  they  crossed  three- 
quarters  of  the  way  up.  The  projecting  quar- 
ters held  in  clutch  a large  wicker  basket  like 
the  car  of  a balloon.  Peering  above  the  car 
was  a man’s  head.  As  the  occupant  below 
slowly  turned  the  head  to  keep  an  eye  on  us, 
it  suggested,  amid  its  web  of  poles,  some  mam- 
moth spider  lying  in  wait  for  its  prey. 

It  was  a matter  of  some  wonder  at  first 
how  the  man  got  there,  until  the  motion  of  the 
steamer  turned  the  side  and  disclosed  a set  of 
cross  poles  lashed  between  two  of  the  up- 
rights, forming  a rude  sort  of  ladder.  Curi- 
osity, satisfied  on  this  primary  point,  next 
asked  why  he  got  there.  As  this  was  a riddle 


An  Inland  Sea  iiy 

to  me,  I propounded  it  to  Yejiro,  who  only 
shook  his  head  and  propounded  it  to  somebody 
else  ; a compliment  to  the  inquiry  certainly,  if 
not  to  my  choice  of  informant.  This  somebody 
else  told  him  the  man  was  fishing.  Except 
for  the  immobility  of  the  figure,  I never  saw  a 
man  look  less  like  it  in  my  life. 

Such,  however,  was  the  fact.  The  wigwam 
was  connected  by  strings  to  the  entrance  of  a 
sort  of  weir,  and  the  man  who  crouched  in  the 
basket  was  on  the  lookout  for  large  fish,  of 
a kind  called  bora.  As  soon  as  one  of  them 
strayed  into  the  mouth  of  the  net,  the  man 
pulled  the  string  which  closed  the  opening. 
The  height  of  his  observatory  above  the  level 
of  the  water  enabled  him  to  see  through  it  to 
the  necessary  depth.  I am  a trifle  hazy  over 
the  exact  details  of  the  apparatus,  as  I never 
saw  a fish  inquisitive  enough  to  go  in  ; but  I 
submit  the  existence  of  the  fishermen  in  proof 
that  it  works. 

Having  deposited  such  wights  as  wished  to 


ii8  An  Inland  Sea 

go  ashore  — for  the  place  was  of  no  pretension 
— our  steam  fish  once  more  turned  its  tail  and 
darted  us  through  some  narrows  into  another 
bay.  It  must  have  been  a favorite  one  with 
bora,  as  its  shores  were  dotted  with  fish-look- 
outs. The  observatories  stood  a few  stone- 
throws  out  in  deepish  water,  at  presumably 
favorable  points,  and  never  very  near  one  an- 
other, lest  they  should  interfere  with  a possi- 
ble catch.  Some  were  inhabited,  some  not. 

This  bay  was  further  remarkable  for  a solar 
halo  which  I chanced  to  see  on  glancing  up 
at  the  sun.  I suppose  it  was  the  singular 
quality  of  the  light  that  first  caused  me  to 
look  overhead.  For  a thin  veil  of  cloud  had 
drawn  over  the  blue  and  tempered  the  sun- 
shine peculiarly.  Of  course  one  is  familiar 
with  caricatures  of  the  thing  in  meteorological 
books  ; but  the  phenomenon  itself  is  not  so 
common,  and  the  effect  was  uncanny.  At  the 
first  glance  it  seemed  a bit  of  Noto  witchery, 
that  strangely  luminous  circle  around  the  sun. 


An  Inland  Sea  ng 

To  admire  the  moon  thus  bonneted,  as  the 
Japanese  say,  is  common  enough,  and  befits 
the  hour.  But  to  have  the  halo  of  the  night 
hung  aloft  dn  broad  day  is  to  crown  sober 
noon  with  enchantment. 

The  sheet  of  water  was  sparsely  dotted  with 
sail.  One  little  craft  in  particular  I remember, 
whose  course  bore  her  straight  down  upon  us. 
She  dilated  slowly  out  of  the  distance,  and 
then  passed  so  close  I might  have  tossed  a 
flower  aboard  of  her.  So  steady  her  motion 
she  seemed  oblivious  to  our  presence,  as  she 
glided  demurely  by  at  relatively  doubled  speed. 

Only  after  we  had  passed  did  she  show  signs 
of  noticing  us  at  all.  For,  meeting  our  wake, 
the  coquette,  she  suddenly  began  dropping  us 
curtseys  in  good-by. 


Anamid^u. 


We  seemed  bound  that  day  to  meet  freaks 
in  fishing-tackle.  The  next  one  to  turn  up 
was  a kind  of  crinoline.  This  strange  thing 
confronted  us  as  we  disembarked  at  Anamidzu. 
Anamidzu  was  the  last  port  in  the  inland  sea. 
After  touching  here  the  steamer  passed  out 
into  the  sea  of  Japan  and  tied  up  for  the 
night  at  a small  port  on  the  eastern  side  of 
the  nose  of  the  peninsula. 

As  the  town  lay  away  from  the  shore  up 
what  looked  like  a canal,  we  were  transferred 
to  a small  boat  to  be  rowed  in.  Just  as  we 
reached  the  beginnings  of  the  canal  we  saw 
squatting  on  the  bank  an  old  crone  contem- 
plating, it  seemed,  the  forlorn  remains  of  a 


Anamidiu  121 

hoopskirt  which  dangled  from  a pole  before 
her,  half  in  and  half  out  of  water.  The  chief 
difference  between  this  and  the  more  common 
article  of  commerce  was  merely  one  of  degree, 
since  here  the  ribs  by  quite  meeting  at  the 
top  entirely  suppressed  the  waist.  Their 
lower  extremities  were  hid  in  the  water  and 
were,  I was  informed,  baited  with  hooks. 

The  old  lady’s  attitude  was  one  of  inimitable 

% 

apathy  ; nor  did  she  so  much  as  blink  at  us,  as 
we  passed.  A little  farther  up,  on  the  oppo- 
site bank,  sat  a similar  bit  of  still  life.  A 
third  beyond  completed  the  picture.  These 
good  dames  bordered  the  brink  like  so  many 
meditative  frogs.  Though  I saw  them  for  the 
first  time  in  the  flesh,  I recognized  them  at 
ojice.  Here  were  the  identical  fisherfolk  who 
ha  for  centuries  in  the  paintings  of 

Tsu?"^^iobu,  not  a whit  more  immovable  in 
kakemiono  than  in  real  life.  I almost  looked 
to  finc’t  the  master’s  seal  somewhere  in  the  cor- 
ner ^^the  landscape. 


122  AnamidT^u 

The  worthy  souls  were,  I was  told,  inkyos  ; 
a social,  or  rather  unsocial  state,  which  in  their 
case  may  be  rendered  unwidowed  dowagers  ; 
since,  in  company  with  their  husbands,  they 
had  renounced  all  their  social  titles  and  es- 
tates. Their  daiighters-in-law  now  did  the  do- 
mestic drudgery,  while  they  devoted  their  days 
thus  to  sport. 

Whether  it  were  the  dames,  or  the  canal,  or 
more  likely  still,  some  touch  of  atmosphere, 
but  I was  reminded  of  Holland.  Indeed,  I 
know  not  what  the  special  occasion  was.  It  is 
a strange  fabric  we  are  so  busy  weaving  out 
of  sensations.  Let  something  accidentally 
pick  up  an  old  thread,  and  behold,  without 
rhyme  or  reason,  we  are  treated  to  a whole 

piece  of  past  experience.  Stranger  yet;  when 

1 

but  the  background  is  brought  back,  tferre  ' 
were  unconscious  of  the  warp  while  the  ( 
were  weaving  in.  Yet  reproduce  it  and  ^ 
woof  starts  suddenly  to  sight.  For 
phere,  like  a perfume,  does  ghostly  serVg 
the  past. 


Anamid:(U  12^ 

There  is  something  less  mediate  in  my  re- 
membrance of  Anamidzu.  The  place  has  to 
me  a memory  of  its  own  that  hangs  about  the 
room  they  made  mine  for  an  hour.  It  was  cer- 
tainly a pretty  room  ; surprisingly  so,  for  such 
an  out-of-the-way  spot.  I dare  say  it  was  only 
that  to  my  fellow-voyager  of  the  steamer,  hur- 
rying homeward  to  Wakamatsu.  I could  hear 
him  in  the  next  apartment  making  merry  over 
his  midday  meal.  To  him  the  place  stood  for 
the  last  stage  on  the  journey  home.  But  to 
me,  it  meant  more.  It  marked  both  the  end 
of  the  beginning,  and  the  beginning  of  the 
end.  For  I had  fixed  upon  this  spot  for  my 
turning  point. 

It  was  high  noon  in  my  day  of  travel,  like 
the  high  noon  there  outside  the  open  sh5ji. 
The  siesta  of  sensation  had  come.  Thus  far, 
the  coming  events  had  cast  their  shadows  be- 
fore and  I had  followed  ; now  they  had  touched 
their  zenith  here  in  mid-Noto.  Henceforth  I 
should  see  them  moving  back  again  toward  the 


t24  Anamidiu 

east.  The  dazzling  sunshine  without  pointed 
the  shade  within,  making  even  the  room  seem 
more  shadowy  than  it  was.  I began  to  feel 
creeping  over  me  that  strange  touch  of  sadness 
that  attends  the  supreme  moment  of  success, 
though  fulfillment  be  so  trifling  a thing  as  a 
journey’s  bourne.  Great  or  little,  real  or  fan- 
cied, the  feeling  is  the  same  in  kind.  The 
mind  seems  strangely  like  the  eye.  Satisfy 
some  emotion  it  has  been  dwelling  on,  and  the 
relaxed  nerv'^es  at  once  make  you  conscious  of 
the  complementary  tint. 

Then  other  inns  in  Japan  came  up  regret- 
fully across  the  blue  distance  of  the  inter- 
vening years,  midday  halts,  where  an  hour  of 
daydream  lay  sandwiched  in  between  two  half 
days  of  tramp.  And  I thought  of  the  com- 
panions now  so  far  away.  Having  heard  the 
tune  in  a minor  key,  these  came  in  as  chords 
of  some  ampler  variation,  making  a kind  of 
symphony  of  sentiment,  where  I was  brought 
back  ever  and  anon  to  the  simple  motif.  And 


Anamidiu  12^ 

the  teahouse  maidens  entered  and  went  out 
again  like  mutes  in  my  mind’s  scene. 

I doubt  not  the  country  beyond  is  all  very 
commonplace,  but  it  might  be  an  Eldorado 
from  the  gilding  fancy  gave  it  then.  I was 
told  the  hills  were  not  high,  and  that  eighteen 
miles  on  foot  would  land  the  traveler  at  Waka- 
matsu  on  the  sea  of  Japan,  fronting  Korea, 
but  seeing  only  the  sea,  and  I feel  tolerably 
sure  there  is  nothing  there  to  repay  the  tramp. 
When  a back  has  bewitched  you  in  the  street, 
it  is  a fatal  folly  to  try  to  see  the  face.  You 
will  only  be  disillusioned  if  you  do. 


XII. 


At  Sea  Again. 

I WAS  roused  from  my  mid-Noto  reverie  by 
tidings  that  our  boat  was  ready  and  waiting 
just  below  the  bridge.  This  was  not  the 
steamer  which  had  long  since  gone  on  its  way, 
but  a small  boat  of  the  country  we  had  suc- 
ceeded in  chartering  for  the  return  voyage. 
The  good  inn-folk,  who  had  helped  in  the  hir- 
ing, hospitably  came  down  to  the  landing  to 
see  us  off. 

The  boat,  like  all  Japanese  small  boats,  was 
in  build  between  a gondola  and  a dory,  and 
dated  from  a stage  in  the  art  of  rowing 
prior  to  the  discovery  that  to  sit  is  better  than 
to  stand  even  at  work.  Ours  was  a small 
specimen  of  its  class,  that  we  might  the  quicker 
compass  the  voyage  to  Nanao,  which  the  boat- 


At  Sea  Again  i2y 

men  averred  to  be  six  ri  (fifteen  miles).  My 
estimate,  prompted  perhaps  by  interest,  and 
certainly  abetted  by  ignorance,  made  it  about 
half  that  distance.  My  argument,  conclusive 
enough  to  myself,  proved  singularly  unshaking 
to  the  boatmen,  who  would  neither  abate  the 
price  in  consequence  nor  diminish  their  own 
allowance  of  the  time  to  be  taken. 

The  boat  had  sweeps  both  fore  and  aft,  each 
let  in  by  a hole  in  the  handle  to  a pin  on  the 
gunwale.  She  was  also  provided  with  a sail 
hoisting  on  a spar  that  fitted  in  amidships. 
The  sail  was  laced  vertically : a point,  by  the 
way,  for  telling  a Japanese  junk  from  a Chi- 
, nese  one  at  sea,  for  Cathay  always  laces  hori- 
zontally. 

Whatever  our  private  beliefs  on  the  proba- 
ble length  of  the  voyage,  both  crew  and 
passengers  agreed  charmingly  in  one  hope, 
namely,  that  there  might  be  as  little  rowing 
about  it  as  possible.  Our  reasons  for  this  dif- 
fered, it  is  true  j but  as  neither  side  volunteered 


128  At  Sea  Again 

theirs,  the  difference  mattered  not.  So  we 

slipped  down  the  canal. 

The  hoopskirt  fisher-dames  were  just  where 
we  had  left  them  some  hours  before,  and  were 
still  too  much  absorbed  in  doing  nothing  to 
waste  time  looking  at  us.  I would  gladly 
have  bothered  them  for  a peep  at  their  traps, 
but  that  it  seemed  a pity  to  intrude  upon  so 
engrossing  a pursuit.  Besides,  I feared  their 
apathy  might  infect  the  crew.  Our  mariners, 
though  hired  only  for  the  voyage,  did  not 
seem  averse  to  making  a day  of  it,  as  it  was. 

One  thing,  however,  I was  bent  on  stopping 
to  inspect,  cost  what  it  might  in  delay  or  disci- 
pline ; and  that  was  a fish-lookout.  To  have* 
seen  the  thing  from  a steamer’s  deck  merely 
whetted  desire  for  nearer  acquaintance.  To 
gratify  the  wish  was  not  difficult  ; for  the 
shore  was  dotted  with  them  like  blind  light- 
houses off  the  points.  I was  for  making  for 
the  first  visible,  but  the  boatmen,  with  an  eye 
to  economy  of  labor,  pointed  out  that  there 


At  Sea  Again  i2g 

was  one  directly  in  our  path  round  the  next 
headland.  So  I curbed  my  curiosity  till  on 
turning  the  corner  it  came  into  view.  As 
good  luck  would  have  it,  it  was  inhabited. 

We  pulled  up  alongside,  gave  its  occupants 
good-day,  and  asked  leave  to  mount.  The 
fishermen,  hospitable  souls,  offered  no  objec- 
tion. This  seemed  to  me  the  more  courteous 
on  their  part,  after  I had  made  the  ascent,  for 
there  were  two  of  them  in  the  basket,  and  a 
visitor  materially  added  to  the  already  uneasy 
weight.  But  then  they  were  used  to  it.  The 
rungs  of  what  did  for  ladder  were  so  far  apart 
as  to  necessitate  making  very  long  legs  of  it  in 
places,  which  must  have  been  colossal  strides 
for  the  owners.  The  higher  I clambered,  the 
flimsier  the  structure  got.  However,  I arrived, 
not  without  unnecessary  trepidation,  wormed 
my  way  into  the  basket  and  crouched  down  in 
some  uneasiness  of  mind.  The  way  the  thing 
swayed  and  wriggled  gave  me  to  believe  that 
the  next  moment  we  should  all  be  shot  cata- 


/^o  At  Sea  Again 

pultwise  into  the  sea.  To  call  it  topheavy  will 
do  for  a word,  but  nothing  but  experience  will 
do  for  the  sensation.  This  oscillation,  strangely 
enough,  was  not  apparent  from  the  sea ; which 
reminds  me  to  have  noticed  differences  due 
the  point  of  view  before. 

I was  greeted  by  an  extensive  outlook.  The 
shore,  perhaps  a hundred  yards  away,  ran 
shortly  into  a fisher  hamlet,  and  then  into  a 
long  line  of  half  submerged  rocks,  like  succes- 
sive touches  of  a skipping  stone.  Beyond  the 
end  of  this  indefinite  point,  and  a little  to  the 
right  of  it,  stood  another  lookout.  This  was 
our  only  near  neighbor,  though  others  could  be 
seen  in  miniature  in  the  distance,  faint  cob- 
webs against  the  coast.  The  bay  stretched 
away  on  all  sides,  landlocked  at  last,  except 
where  to  the  east  an  opening  gave  into  the 
sea  of  Japan. 

To  a dispassionate  observer  the  basket 
may  have  been  twenty  feet  above  the  water. 
To  one  in  the  basket,  it  was  considerably 


At  Sea  Again  131 

higher  — and  its  height  was  emphasized  by  its 
seeming  insecurity.  The  fishermen  were  very 
much  at  home  in  it,  but  to  me  the  sensation 
was  such  as  to  cause  strained  relations  be- 
tween my  will  to  stay  and  my  wish  to  be  gone. 

But  strong  feelings  are  so  easily  changed 
into  their  opposites  ! I can  imagine  one  of 
these  eyries  a delightful  setting  to  certain 
moods.  A deserted  one  should  be  the  place 
of  places  for  reading  a romance.  The  solitude, 
the  strangeness,  and  the  cradle-like  swing, 
would  all  compose  to  shutting  out  the  world. 
To  paddle  there  some  May  morning,  tie  one’s 
boat  out  of  sight  beneath,  and  climb  up  into 
the  nest  to  sit  alone  half  poised  in  the  sky  in 
the  midst  of  the  sea,  should  savor  of  a new 
sensation.  After  a little  acclimatization  it 
would  probably  become  a passion.  Certainly, 
with  a pipe,  it  should  induce  a most  happy 
frame  of  mind  for  a French  novel.  The 
seeming  risk  of  the  one  situation  would  serve 
to  point  those  of  the  other. 


At  Sea  Again 

The  fishermen  received  my  thanks  with 
amiability,  watched  us  with  stolid  curiosity  as 
we  pulled  off,  and  then  relapsed  into  their 
former  semi-comatose  condition.  Their  eyrie 
slipped  perspectively  astern,  sank  lower  and 
lower,  and  suddenly  was  lost  against  the  back- 
ground of  the  coast. 

The  favoring  breeze  we  were  always  hoping 
for  never  came.  This  was  a bitter  disappoint- 
ment to  the  boatmen,  who  thus  found  them- 
selves prevented  from  more  than  occasional 
whiffs  of  smoking.  Once  we  had  out  the  spar 
and  actually  hoisted  the  sail,  a godsend  of  an 
excuse  to  them  for  doing  nothing  for  the  next 
few  minutes  ; but  it  shortly  had  to  come  down 
again  and  on  we  rowed. 

Our  surroundings  made  a pretty  sight.  A 
foreground  of  water,  smooth  as  one  could  wish 
had  he  nowhere  to  go,  with  illusive  cat’s-paws 
of  wind  playing  coyly  all  around,  marking  the 
great  shield  with  dark  scratches,  and  never 
coming  near  enough  to  be  caught  except  when 


At  Sea  Again  133 

the  sail  was  down.  Fold  upon  fold  of  low  hills 
in  the  distance,  with  hamlets  showing  here 
and  there  at  their  bases  by  the  sea.  And 
then,  almost  like  a part  of  the  picture,  so 
subtly  did  the  sensations  blend,  the  slow  ca- 
denced  creak  of  the  sweeps  on  the  gunwale,  a 
rhythmic  undercurrent  of  sound. 

At  intervals,  a wayfarer  under  sail,  bound 
the  other  way,  crept  slowly  by,  carrying,  as  it 
seemed  to  our  envious  eyes,  his  own  capful  of 
wind  with  him ; and  once  a boat,  bound  our 
way  and  not  under  sail,  passed  us  not  far  off. 
Our  boatmen  were  beautifully  blind  to  this  de- 
feat till  their  attention  had  been  specifically 
called  to  it  for  an  explanation.  They  then  de- 
clared the  victor  to  be  lighter  than  we,  and 
this  in  face  of  our  having  chosen  their  craft 
for  just  that  quality.  What  per  cent  of  such 
statements,  I wonder,  do  the  makers  expect  to 
have  credited  t And  if  any  appreciable  amount, 
which  is  the  more  sold,  the  artless  deceiver  or 
his  less  simple  victim  t 


I ^4  At  Sea  Again 

But  we  always  headed  in  the  direction  of 
Nanao,  and  the  shores  floated  by  through  the 
long  spring  afternoon.  At  last  they  began  to 
contract  upon  us  till,  by  virtue  of  narrowing, 
they  shot  us  through  the  straits  in  water  clear 
as  crystal,  and  then  widening  again,  dropped 
us  adrift  in  Wakura  bay.  Though  not  so 
beloved  of  bora,  the  bay  was  most  popular 
with  other  fish.  Schools  of  porpoises  turned 
cart-wheels  for  our  amusement,  and  in  spots 
the  water  was  fairly  alive  with  baby  jelly-fish. 
On  the  left  lay  Monkey  island,  so  called 
from  a certain  old  gentleman  who  had  had  a 
peculiar  fondness  for  those  animals.  His 
family  of  poor  relations  had  disappeared  at  his 
death,  and  the  island  was  now  chiefly  remark- 
able for  a curious  clay  formation,  which  time 
had  chiseled  into  cliffs  so  mimicking  a fold- 
ing screen  that  they  were  known  by  the  name. 
They  were  perfectly  level  on  top  and  perpen- 
dicular on  the  sides,  and  as  double-faced  as  the 
most  matter-of-fact  nicknamer  could  desire. 


At  Sea  Again  /^5 

Sunset  came,  found  us  still  in  the  bay  and  left 
us  there.  Then  the  dusk  crept  up  from  the 
black  water  beneath,  like  an  exhalation.  It 
grew  chilly. 

Just  as  we  were  turning  the  face  of  Screen 
cliff  a sound  of  singing  reached  us,  ricochetting 
over  the  water.  It  had  a plaintive  ring  such 
as  peasant  songs  are  wont  to  have,  and  came, 
as  we  at  length  made  out,  from  a boat  home- 
ward bound  from  the  island,  steering  a course 
at  right  angles  to  our  own.  The  voices  were 
those  of  women,  and  as  our  courses  swept  us 
nearer  each  other,  we  saw  that  women  alone 
composed  the  crew.  They  had  been  faggot- 
cutting, and  the  bunches  lay  piled  amidships, 
while  fore  and  aft  they  plied  their  oars,  and 
sang.  The  gloaming  hid  all  but  sound  and 
sex,  and  threw  its  veil  of  romance  over  the 
trollers,  who  sent  their  hearts  out  thus  across 
the  twilight  sea.  The  song,  no  doubt  some 
common  ditty,  gathered  a pathos  over  the 
water  through  the  night.  It  swept  from  one 


1 3^  At  Sea  Again 

side  of  us  to  the  other,  softened  with  distance, 

lingered  in  detached  strains,  and  then  was 

hushed,  leaving  us  once  more  alone  with  the 

night. 

Still  we  paddled  on.  It  was  now  become 
quite  dark,  quite  cold,  quite  calm,  and  we  were 
still  several  good  miles  off  from  Nanao.  At 
length  on  turning  a headland  the  lights  of  the 
town  and  its  shipping  came  out  one  by  one 
from  behind  a point,  the  advance  guards  first, 
then  the  main  body,  and  wheeling  into  line 
took  up  their  post  in  a long  parade  ahead. 
We  began  to  wonder  which  were  the  nearer. 
There  is  a touch  of  mystery  in  making  a 
harbor  at  night.  In  the  daytime  you  see  it 
all  well-ordered  by  perspective.  But  as  you 
creep  slowly  in  through  the  dark,  the  twinkles 
of  the  shipping  only  doubtfully  point  their 
whereabouts.  The  most  brilliant  may  turn 
out  the  most  remote,  and  the  faintest  at  first 
the  nearest  after  all.  Your  own  motion  alone 
can  sift  them  into  place.  If  we  could  voyage 


At  Sea  Again  1 37 

through  the  sea  of  space,  it  would  be  thus  we 
might  come  upon  some  star-cluster  and  have 
the  same  delightful  doubt  which  should  be- 
come our  sun  the  first. 

In  half  an  hour  they  were  all  about  us ; the 
nearer  revealing  by  their  light  the  dark  bodies 
connected  with  them;  the  farther  still  show- 
ing only  themselves.  The  teahouses  along 
the  water-front  made  a milky-way  ahead.  We 
threaded  our  course  between  the  outlying 
lights  while  the  milky-way  resolved  itself  into 
star-pointed  silhouettes.  Then  skirting  along 
it,  we  drew  up  at  last  at  a darksome  quay, 
and  landed  Yejiro  to  hunt  up  an  inn.  I 
looked  at  my  watch  ; it  was  ten  o’clock.  We 
had  not  only  passed  my  estimate  of  time 
somewhere  in  the  middle  of  the  bay ; we 
had  exceeded  even  the  boatmen’s  excessive 
allowance.  Somehow  we  had  put  six  hours  to 
the  voyage.  I began  to  realize  I had  hired 
the  wrong  men.  Nor  was  the  voyage  yet 
over,  if  remaining  attached  to  the  boat  for 


1^8  At  Sea  Again 

fully  an  hour  more  be  entitled  to  count.  For 
Yejiro  did  not  return,  and  the  boatmen  and 
I waited. 

I was  glad  enough  to  make  pretence  at 
arrival  by  getting  out  of  the  boat  on  to  the 
quay.  The  quay  was  a dismal  place.  I walked 
out  to  the  farther  end,  where  I found  an  indi- 
vidual haunting  it  with  an  idea  to  suicide  ap- 
parently. His  course  struck  me  as  so  appro- 
priate that  I felt  it  would  be  hollow  mockery 
to  argue  the  point  with  him.  He  must  have 
become  alarmed  at  the  possibility,  however, 
for  he  made  off.  Heaven  knows  he  had  small 
cause  to  fear  ; I was  certainly  at  that  mo- 
ment no  unsympathetic  soul. 

Having  only  come  to  grief  on  the  quay,  I 
next  tried  a landward  stroll  with  much  the 
same  effect.  The  street  or  place  that  gave 
upon  the  wharf  was  as  deserted  as  the  wharf 
itself.  Half  the  houses  about  it  were  dark  as 
tombs  ; the  other  half  showed  only  glimmer- 
ing sh5ji  taunting  me  by  the  sounds  they 


At  Sea  Again  / 59 

suffered  to  escape,  or  by  a chance  silhouette 
thrown  for  a moment  upon  the  paper  wall  by 
some  one  within.  And  now  and  then,  as  if 
still  further  to  enhance  the  solitude,  a pair 
passed  me  by  in  low  self-suited  talk. 

Still  no  sign  of  the  boy.  Every  few  minutes 
I would  walk  back  to  the  boat  and  linger  be- 
side it  till  I could  no  longer  stand  the  mute  re- 
proach of  the  baskets  huddled  in  a little  pile 
on  the  stones,  poor,  houseless  immigrants  that 
they  were.  And  from  time  to  time  I made  a 
touching  spectacle  of  myself,  by  pulling  out 
my  watch  and  peering,  by  what  feeble  light  I 
could  find,  anxiously  at  its  face  to  make  out 
the  hour. 

At  last  Yejiro  turned  up  in  the  company  of 
a policeman.  This  official,  however,  proved  to 
be  accompanying  him  in  a civil  capacity,  and, 
changing  into  a guide,  led  the  way  through 
several  dark  alley-ways  to  an  inn  of  forbidding 
face,  but  better  heart.  There  did  we  eventu- 
ally dine,  or  breakfast,  for  by  that  time  it  was 
become  the  next  day. 


XIII. 

On  the  No  to  Highway. 

On  the  morrow  morning  we  took  the  road 
in  kuruma,  the  road  proper,  as  Yejiro  called 
it ; for  it  was  the  main  bond  between  Noto 
and  the  rest  of  Japan.  This  was  the  nearest 
approach  it  had  to  a proper  name,  a circum- 
stance which  showed  it  not  to  be  of  the  first 
importance.  For  in  Japan,  all  the  old  arteries 
of  travel  had  distinctive  names,  the  Nakasendo 
or  Mid-Mountain  road,  the  Tokaido  or  Eastern 
Sea  road,  and  so  forth.  Like  certain  other 
country  relations,  their  importance  was  due  to 
their  city  connections,  not  to  their  own  local 
magnitude.  For,  when  well  out  of  sight  of 
the  town,  they  do  not  hesitate  to  shrink  to 
anything  but  imposing  proportions.  In  mid 


On  the  No  to  Highway  141 

career  you  might  often  doubt  yourself  to  be 
on  so  celebrated  a thoroughfare.  But  they 
are  always  delightful  to  the  eye,  as  they  wan- 
der through  the  country,  now  bosomed  in  trees 
among  the  mountains,  now  stalking  between 
their  own  long  files  of  pine,  or  cryptomeria, 
across  the  well-tilled  plains.  This  one  had  but 
few  sentinels  to  line  it  in  the  open,  but  lost 
little  in  picturesqueness  for  its  lack  of  pomp. 
It  was  pretty  enough  to  be  very  good  company 
itself. 

It  was  fairly  patronized  by  wayfarers  to  de- 
light the  soul  ; cheerful  bodies,  who,  though 
journeying  for  business,  had  plenty  of  time  to 
be  happy,  and  radiated  content.  Take  it  as 
you  please,  the  Japanese  people  are  among  the 
very  happiest  on  the  face  of  the  globe,  which 
makes  them  among  the  most  charming  to  meet. 

Nothing  notable  beyond  such  pleasing  gene- 
ralities of  path  and  people  lay  in  our  way,  till 
we  came  to  a place  where  a steep  and  perfectly 
smooth  clay  bank  shot  from  a spur  of  the 


142  On  the  Noto  HigJrway 

hills  directly  into  the  thoroughfare.  Three 
urchins  were  industriously  putting  this  to  its 
proper  use,  coasting  down  it,  that  is,  on  the 
seats  of  what  did  them  for  breeches.  An 
over-grown-up  regard  for  my  own  trousers 
alone  deterred  me  from  instantly  following  suit. 
No  such  scruples  prevented  my  abetting  them, 
however,  to  the  extent  of  a trifling  bribe  for  a 
repetition.  For  they  had  stopped  abashed  as 
soon  as  they  found  they  had  a public.  Regard- 
less of  maternal  consequences,  I thus  encour- 
aged the  sport.  But  after  all,  was  it  so  much 
a bribe  as  an  entrance  fee  to  the  circus,  or 
better  yet,  a sort  of  subsidy  from  an  ex-mem- 
ber of  the  fraternity  ? Surely,  if  adverse  phys- 
ical circumstances  preclude  profession  in  per- 
son, the  next  best  thing  is  to  become  a noble 
patron  of  art. 

From  this  accidental  instance,  I judged  that 
boys  in  Noto  had  about  as  good  a time  of  it  as 
boys  elsewhere ; the  next  sight  we  chanced 
upon  made  me  think  that  possibly  women  did 


On  the  Noto  Highway  14^ 

not.  We  had  hardly  parted  from  the  coasters 
on  dry  ground  when  we  met  in  the  way  with 
a lot  of  women  harnessed  to  carts  filled  with 
various  merchandise,  which  they  were  toil- 
somely dragging  along  towards  Nanao.  It 
was  not  so  picturesque  a sight  as  its  sex 
might  suggest.  For  though  the  women  were 
naturally  not  aged,  and  some  had  not  yet  lost 
all  comeliness  of  feature,  this  womanliness 
made  the  thing  the  more  appealing.  Noto  was 
evidently  no  Eden,  since  the  local  Adam  had 
thus  contrived  to  shift  upon  the  local  Eve  so 
large  a fraction  of  the  primal  curse.  It  was 
as  bad  as  the  north  of  Germany.  The  female 
porters  we  had  been  offered  on  the  threshold 
of  the  province  were  merely  symptomatic  of 
the  state  of  things  within.  I wonder  what  my 
young  Japanese  friend,  the  new  light,  to  whom 
I listened  once  on  board  ship,  while  he  launched 
into  a diatribe  upon  the  jinrikisha  question,  the 
degrading  practice,  as  he  termed  it,  of  using 
men  for  horses,  — I wonder,  I say,  what  he 


144  On  the  Noto  Highway 

would  have  said  to  this  ! He  was  a quixotic 
youth,  at  the  time  returning  from  abroad, 
where  he  had  picked  up  many  new  ideas.  His 
proposed  applications  of  them  did  him  great 
credit,  more  than  they  are  likely  to  win  among 
the  class  for  whom  they  were  designed.  A 
cent  and  two  thirds  a mile,  to  be  had  for  the 
running  for  it,  is  as  yet  too  glittering  a prize 
to  be  easily  foregone. 

Of  the  travel  in  question,  we  were  treated  to 
forty-three  miles’  worth  that  day,  by  relays  of 
runners.  The  old  men  fell  off  gradually,  to  be 
replaced  by  new  ones,  giving  our  advance  the 
character  of  a wave,  where  the  particles  merely 
oscillated,  but  the  motion  went  steadily  on. 
The  oscillations,  however,  were  not  insignifi- 
cant in  amount.  Some  of  the  men  must  have 
run  their  twenty-five  miles  or  more,  broken  only 
by  short  halts  ; and  this  at  a dog-trot,  changed 
of  course  to  a slower  pull  on  bad  bits,  and  when 
going  up  hill.  A fine  show  of  endurance,  with 
all  allowances.  In  this  fashion  we  bowled 


On  the  No  to  Highway  14^ 

along  through  a smiling  agricultural  landscape, 
relieved  by  the  hills  upon  the  left,  and  with 
the  faintest  suspicion,  not  amounting  to  a 
scent,  of  the  sea  out  of  sight  on  the  right. 
The  day  grew  more  beautiful  with  every  hour 
of  its  age.  The  blue  depths  above,  tenanted 
by  castles  of  cloud,  granted  fancy  eminent  do- 
main to  wander  where  she  would.  Even  the 
road  below  gave  free  play  to  its  caprice, 
and  meandered  like  any  stream  inquisitively 
through  the  valley,  visiting  all  the  villages 
within  reach,  after  a whimsical  fashion  of  its 
own.  All  about  it,  meadows  were  tilling,  and 
the  whole  landscape  breathed  an  air  of  well- 
established  age,  amid  the  lustiness  of  youth. 
The  very  farmhouses  looked  to  have  grown 
where  they  stood,  as  indeed  the  upper  part 
of  them  had.  For  from  the  thatch  of  their 
roofs,  deep  bedded  in  mud,  sprang  all  manner 
of  plants  that  made  of  the  eaves  gardens  in 
the  air.  The  ridgepoles  stood  transformed 
into  beds  of  flowers  ; their  long  tufts  of  grass 


146  On  the  Noto  Highway 

waved  in  the  wind,  the  blossoms  nodding 
their  heads  amicably  to  the  passers-by.  What 
a contented  folk  this  should  be  whose  very 
homes  can  so  vegetate  ! Surely  a pretty  con- 
ceit it  is  for  a peasantry  thus  to  sleep  every 
night  under  the  sod,  and  yet  awake  each 
morning  to  life  again ! 

At  the  threshold  of  Kaga  we  turned  ab- 
ruptly to  the  left,  and  attacked  the  pass  lead- 
ing over  into  Etchiu.  As  we  wound  our  way 
up  the  narrow  valley,  day  left  the  hollows  to 
stand  on  rosy  tiptoe  on  the  sides  of  the  hills, 
the  better  to  take  flight  into  the  clouds.  There 
it  lingered  a little,  folding  the  forests  about 
with  its  roseate  warmth.  Even  the  stern  old 
pines  flushed  to  the  tips  of  their  shaggy 
branches,  while  here  and  there  a bit  of  open 
turned  a glowing  cheek  full  to  the  good-night 
kiss  of  the  sun.  And  over  beyond  it  all  rose 
the  twilight  bow,  in  purplish  insubstantiality 
creeping  steadily  higher  and  higher,  above  the 
pine-clad  heights. 


On  the  Noto  Highway  147 

I reached  the  top  before  the  jinrikisha,  and 
as  a sort  of  reward  of  merit  scrambled  a little 
farther  up  the  steep  slope  to  the  left.  From 
here  I commanded  the  pass,  especially  that 
side  of  it  I had  not  come  up.  The  corkscrew  of 
the  road  carried  the  eye  most  pleasingly  down 
with  it.  I could  see  a teahouse  a few  hundred 
feet  below,  and  beyond  it,  at  a much  lower 
level,  a bridge.  Beyond  this  came  a compar- 
atively flat  stretch,  and  then  the  road  disap- 
peared into  a gorge.  Here  and  there  it  was 
pointed  with  people  toiling  slowly  up.  Of  the 
encircling  hills  the  shoulders  alone  were  visi- 
ble. While  I was  still  surveying  the  scene, 
the  jinrikisha  men,  one  after  the  other, 
emerged  from  the  gulf  out  of  sight  on  the 
right  and  proceeded  to  descend  into  the  one 
on  the  left.  When  the  last  had  well  passed, 
and  I had  tickled  myself  with  the  sense  of 
abandonment,  I scrambled  back,  took  a jump 
into  the  road  and  slipped  down  after  them. 
The  last  had  waited  for  me  at  the  teahouse, 


148  On  the  Noto  Highway 

and  stowing  me  in  started  to  rattle  down  the 
descent.  The  road,  unlike  us,  seemed  afraid 
of  its  own  speed,  and  brought  itself  up 
every  few  hundred  feet  with  a round  turn. 
About  each  of  these  we  swung,  only  to  dash 
down  the  next  bend,  and  begin  the  oscillation 
over  again.  The  men  were  in  fine  excitement, 
and  kept  up  a shouting  out  of  mere  delight. 
In  truth  we  all  enjoyed  the  dissipated  squan- 
dering in  a few  minutes  of  the  energy  of  posi- 
tion we  had  so  laboriously  gained  by  toiling 
up  the  other  side.  Over  the  bridge  we  rattled, 
bowled  along  the  level  stretch,  and  then  into 
the  gorge  and  once  more  down,  till  in  another 
ten  minutes  the  last  fall  had  shot  us  out  into 
the  plain  with  mental  momentum  enough  to 
carry  us  hilariously  into  Imaisurugi,  where  we 
put  up  for  the  night. 

At  breakfast  the  next  morning  the  son  of  the 
house,  an  engaging  lad,  presented  me  with  an 
unexpected  dish,  three  fossil  starfish  on  a plat- 
ter. They  were  found,  he  said,  in  numbers, 
on  the  sides  of  the  hill  hard  by  ; a fact  which 


On  the  Noto  Highway  149 

would  go  to  prove  that  this  part  of  Japan 
has  been  making  in  later  geologic  time.  In- 
deed, I take  it  the  better  part  of  Etchiu  has 
thus  been  cast  up  by  the  sea,  and  now  lies 
between  its  semicircle  of  peaks  and  its  cres- 
cent of  beach,  like  a young  moon  in  the 
western  sky,  a new  bay  of  ricefield  in  the  old 
bay’s  arms.  We  had  come  by  way  of  its 
ocean  terminator  along  its  fringe  of  sand ; 
we  were  now  to  cross  its  face. 

As  we  pulled  out  from  the  town  and  entered 
the  great  plain  of  paddyfields  it  was  like  adven- 
turing ourselves  in  some  vast  expanse  of  ocean, 
cut  up  only  by  islets  of  trees.  So  level  the 
plain  and  so  still  the  air  on  this  warm  May 
morning,  the  clumps  shimmered  in  mirage  in 
the  distance  like  things  at  sea.  Farmhouses 
and  peasants  at  work  in  the  fields  loomed  up 
as  ships,  past  which  we  slowly  tacked  and  then 
dropped  them  out  of  sight  behind.  And  still 
no  end  of  the  same  infinite  level.  New  clumps 
rose  doubtfully  afar,  took  on  form  and  van- 
ished in  their  turn.  Our  men  rolled  along 


1^0  On  the  Noto  Highway 

at  a good  six-knot  gait,  and  mile  went  to  join 
mile  with  little  perceptible  effect  on  the  sur- 
roundings, Only  the  misty  washes  of  the 
mountains,  glistening  in  spots  with  snow,  came 
out  to  the  south  and  then  swung  slowly  round 
like  the  sun  himself.  Occasionally,  we  rolled 
into  a village  of  which  I duly  inquired  the  dis- 
tance from  the  last  known  point.  One  of 
these,  Takaoka,  was  a very  large  place  and 
stretched  a mile  or  more  along  the  road,  with 
ramifications  to  the  side. 

At  last  we  neared  some  foothills  which  we 
crossed  by  a baby  pass,  and  from  the  farther 
side  looked  off  against  the  distant  Tateyama 
range.  Descending  again,  another  stretch  of 
plain  brought  us  to  Toyama,  the  old  feudal 
capital  of  the  province.  It  is  still  a bustling 
town,  and  does  a brisk  business,  I was  told,  in 
patent  medicine,  which  is  hawked  over  Japan 
generally  and  cures  everything.  But  the  for- 
mer splendor  of  the  place  has  left  it  forever. 
The  rooms  in  the  inn,  where  neighboring 
daimyos  were  wont  to  rest  on  their  journeys 


On  the  Noto  Highway 

through,  are  still  superb  with  carving,  lacquer 
and  paintings,  but  no  daimyo  will  ever  again 
hold  his  traveling  court  before  their  tokonoma. 
The  man  perchance  may  again  tarry  there,  but 
the  manner  of  it  all  has  gone  to  join  the  past. 
Now  he  who  wills  may  ensconce  himself  in  the 
daimyo’s  corner,  and  fancy  himself  a feudal 
lord  ; nor  will  the  breeding  of  those  about  him 
disillusion  his  midday  dream. 

The  castle  they  have  turned  into  a public 
school;  and  as  I strolled  into  its  close  I met 
bands  of  boys  in  foreign  lycee-like  uniform 
trooping  out ; chubby  - faced  youngsters  in 
stiff  visored  caps.  Girls  there  were  too,  in 
knots  of  twos  and  threes,  pretty  little  things 
in  semi  - European  dress,  their  hair  done  a 
la  grecque,  stuck  with  a single  flower,  who 
stopped  in  their  chatter  to  stare  at  me.  To 
think  that  the  feudal  times  are  to  them  as 
much  a tale  as  the  making  of  the  plain  itself 
where  its  ruins  stand  already  mantled  with 
green ! 


XIV. 

The  Harinoki  Toge. 

There  now  befell  us  a sad  piece  of  experi- 
ence, the  result  of  misplaced  confidence  in  the 
guidebook.  Ours  was  the  faith  a simple  pub- 
lic pins  upon  print.  Le  journal,  c est  tin  jeune 
homme,  as  Balzac  said,  and  even  the  best  of 
guidebooks,  as  this  one  really  was,  may  turn 
out  — a cover  to  many  shortcomings. 

Its  description  of  the  crossing  of  the  Hari- 
noki toge  implied  a generality  of  perform- 
ances that  carried  conviction.  If  he  who  read 
might  not  run,  he  had,  at  least,  every  assur- 
ance given  him  that  he  would  be  able  to  walk. 
That  the  writer  might  not  only  have  been  the 
first  to  cross,  but  the  last,  as  well,  was  not  evi- 
dent from  the  text.  Nor  was  it  there  apparent 


The  Harinoki  Toge 

that  the  path  which  was  spoken  of  as  difficult 
and  described  as  “ hanging  to  the  precipitous 
side  of  the  cliff,”  might  have  become  tired  of 
haneins:  thus  for  the  sake  of  travelers  who 
never  came,  and  have  given  itself  over  at  last 
to  the  abyss. 

In  the  book,  the  dead  past  still  lived  an 
ever-youthful  present.  In  truth,  however,  the 
path  at  the  time  of  the  account,  some  twelve 
years  before,  had  just  been  made  by  the  sa- 
murai of  Kaga  to  join  them  to  the  capital. 
Since  then  the  road  by  the  sea  had  been  built, 
and  the  Harinoki  pass  had  ceased  to  be  in 
practice  what  it  purported  to  be  in  print.  It 
had  in  a double  sense  reverted  to  type.  There 
was  small  wonder  at  this,  for  it  was  a very 
Cerberus  of  a pass  at  best,  with  three  heads  to 
it.  The  farthest  from  Etchiu  was  the  Hari- 
noki t5ge  proper. 

The  guidebook  and  a friend  had  gone  over 
one  season,  and  the  guidebook  had  induced 
another  friend  to  accompany  him  again  the 


1^4  The  Harinohi  Toge 

year  after.  Whether  there  were  any  unper- 

sonally  conducted  ascents  I am  not  sure.  But 

at  any  rate,  all  this  happened  in  the  early 

days  ; for  years  the  Harinoki  toge  had  had 

rest. 

We  ought  to  have  taken  warning  from  the 
general  skepticism  we  met  with  at  Toyama, 
when  we  proposed  the  pass.  But  with  the 
fatal  faith  of  a man  in  his  guidebook,  we  ig- 
nored the  native  forebodings.  Besides,  there 
were  just  people  enough  who  knew  nothing 
about  it,  and  therefore  thought  it  could  be 
done,  to  encourage  us  in  our  delusion.  Ac- 
cordingly we  left  Toyama  after  lunch  in  the 
best  of  spirits,  in  jinrikisha,  for  Kamidaki,  or 
Upper  Fall,  to  which  there  professed  to  be  a 
jinrikisha  road.  The  distance  was  three  ri, 
seven  miles  and  a half.  Before  we  had  gone 
one  of  them  the  road  gave  out,  and  left  us 
to  tack  on  foot  in  paths  through  the  rice- 
fields,  which  in  one  long  inclination  kept 
mounting  before  us.  Just  before  reaching  the 


The  Harinoki  Toge  755 

village,  a huge  tree  in  full  faint  purple  bloom 
showed  up  a little  to  the  left.  Under  a sudden 
attack  of  botanical  zeal,  I struck  across  lots  to 
investigate,  and  after  much  tacking  among  the 
paddy  dykes  found,  to  my  surprise,  on  reaching 
it,  that  the  flowers  came  from  a huge  wistaria 
that  had  coiled  itself  up  the  tree.  The  vine 
must  have  been  at  least  six  feet  round  at  the 
base,  and  had  a body  horribly  like  an  enor- 
mous boa  that  swung  from  branches  high  in 
air.  The  animal  look  of  the  vegetable  para- 
site was  so  lifelike  that  one  both  longed  and 
loathed  to  touch  it  at  the  same  time. 

At  Kamidaki,  after  the  usual  delay,  we 
found  porters,  who  echoed  the  doubts  of  the 
people  of  Toyama,  and  went  with  us  protest- 
ing. Half  an  hour  after  this  we  came  to  the 
Jindbgawa,  a river  of  variable  importance.  It 
looked  to  have  been  once  the  bed  of  a mighty 
glacier  that  should  have  swept  grandly  round 
from  unseen  fastnesses  among  the  hills.  At 
the  time  of  our  visit,  it  was,  for  the  most  part. 


1^6  The  Harinoki  TSge 

a waste  of  stones  through  which  two  larger 
and  several  lesser  streams  were  in  much  worry 
to  find  their  way  to  the  sea.  The  two  larger 
were  just  big  enough  to  be  unfordable ; so  a 
Charon  stationed  at  each  ferried  the  country 
folk  across.  At  the  smaller,  after  picking  out 
the  likeliest  spots,  we  took  off  our  shoes  and 
socks  and  waded,  and  then,  upon  the  other 
side,  sat  some  time  on  stones,  ill-modeled  to 
that  end,  to  draw  our  things  on  again. 

Our  way  now  led  up  the  left  bank — the 
right  bank,  according  to  aquatic  convention, 
which  pleasingly  supposes  you  to  be  descend- 
ing the  stream.  It  lay  along  a plateau  which 
I doubt  not  to  have  been  the  river’s  prehis- 
toric bed,  so  evidently  had  the  present  one 
been  chiseled  out  of  it  to  a further  depth  of 
over  fifty  feet.  At  first  the  path  struck  in- 
land, astutely  making  a chord  to  the  river  s 
bow,  an  unsuspected  sign  of  intelligence  in  a 
path.  It  was  adventurous,  too,  for  soon  after 
coming  out  above  the  brink,  it  began  upon 


The  Harinoki  Toge  1^7 

acrobatic  feats  in  which  it  showed  itself  na- 
tionally proficient.  A narrow  aqueduct  had 
been  cut  out  of  the  side  of  the  cliff,  and  along 
its  outer  embankment,  which  was  two  feet 
wide,  the  path  proceeded  to  balance.  The 
aqueduct  had  given  way  in  spots,  which  caused 
the  path  to  take  to  some  rickety  boards  put 
there  for  its  benefit.  After  this  exhibition 
of  daring,  it  descended  to  the  stream,  to  rise 
again  later.  Meanwhile  night  came  on  and 
the  river  bottom  began  to  fill  with  what  looked 
to  be  mist,  but  was  in  reality  smoke.  This 
gave  a weird  effect  to  the  now  mountainous 
settings.  Into  the  midst  of  it  we  descended 
to  a suspension  bridge  of  twisted  strands  of 
the  wistaria  vine,  ballasted  at  the  ends  with 
boulders  piled  from  the  river’s  bed.  The 
thing  swayed  cheerfully  as  we  passed  over. 

On  the  top  of  the  opposite  bank  stood 
perched  a group  of  houses,  not  enough  to 
make  a village,  and  far  too  humble  to  support 
an  inn.  But  in  their  midst  rose  a well-to-do 


1^8  The  Harinoki  Toge 

temple,  where,  according  to  the  guidebook, 
good  lodging  was  to  be  had.  It  may  indeed 
be  so.  For  our  part  we  were  not  so  much  as 
granted  entry.  An  acolyte,  who  parleyed  with 
us  through  the  darkness,  reported  the  priest 
away  on  business,  and  refused  to  let  us  in 
on  any  terms.  Several  bystanders  gathered 
during  the  interview,  and  had  it  not  been  for 
one  of  them  we  might  have  been  there  yet. 
From  this  man  we  elicited  the  information 
that  another  hamlet  lay  half  a mile  further  up, 
whose  head-man,  he  thought,  might  be  willing 
to  house  us.  We  followed  straight  on  until 
some  buildings  showed  in  still  blacker  silhou- 
ette against  the  black  sky,  and  there,  after 
some  groping  in  the  dark  and  a second  uncanny 
conversation  through  a loophole,  — for  the 
place  was  already  boarded  up  for  the  night,  — 
we  were  finally  taken  in. 

The  house  was  a generous  instance  of  a 
mountain  farmhouse.  The  floors  were  inno- 
cent of  mats,  and  the  rooms  otherwise  pitiably 


The  Harinoki  Toge  i 

barnlike.  Yet  an  air  of  largeness  distin- 
guished the  whole.  It  was  clearly  the  home 
of  a man  of  standing  in  his  community,  one 
who  lived  amply  the  only  life  he  knew.  You 
felt  you  already  knew  the  man  from  his  outer 
envelope.  And  this  in  some  sort  prepared 
me  for  a little  scene  I was  shortly  to  witness. 
For  while  waiting  for  Yejiro  to  get  dinner 
ready  I became  aware  that  something  was 
going  on  in  what  stood  for  hall ; and  on  push- 
ing the  sh5ji  gently  apart  I beheld  the  whole 
household  at  evening  prayers  before  an  altar 
piece,  lighted  by  candles  and  glittering  with 
gilded  Buddhas  and  bronze  lotus  flowers.  The 
father  intoned  the  service  from  a kind  of 
breviary,  and  the  family  joined  from  time  to 
time  in  the  responses.  There  was  a sincerity  ' 
and  a sweet  simplicity  about  the  act  that  went 
to  my  heart  and  held  me  there.  At  the  close 
of  it  the  family  remained  bowed  while  the  in- 
toner reverently  put  out  the  lights  and  folded 
the  doors  upon  the  images  within.  Locked  in 


i6o  The  Harinohi  Toge 

that  little  case  lay  all  the  luxury  which  the 
family  could  afford,  and  to  which  the  rest  of 
the  house  was  stranger.  There  is  something 
touching  in  any  heartfelt  belief,  and  something 
pathetic  too. 

This  peaceful  parenthesis  was  hardly  past 
before  the  trials  of  travel  intruded  themselves 
again.  The  porters  proved  refractory.  They 
had  agreed  to  come  only  as  far  as  they  could, 
and  now  they  refused  to  proceed  further. 
Here  was  a pretty  pass.  To  turn  back  now 
was  worse  than  not  to  have  set  out  at  all.  Be- 
sides, we  had  not  yet  even  come  in  sight  of  the 
enemy.  Yejiro  reasoned  with  them  for  some 
hours  in  the  kitchen,  occasionally  pausing  for 
lack  of  further  argument  to  report  his  want  of 
progress.  It  seemed  the  men  valued  their 
lives  above  a money  consideration,  strangely 
enough.  They  made  no  bones  about  it ; the 
thing  was  too  dangerous.  The  streams  they 
declared  impassable,  and  the  charcoal  burners 
the  only  men  who  knew  the  path.  Yejiro  at 


The  Harinohi  Toge  i6i 

once  had  these  witnesses  subpoenaed,  and  by 
good  luck  one  of  them  came,  who,  on  being 
questioned,  repeated  all  the  porters  had  said. 
But  Yejiro’s  blood  was  up,  and  he  boldly 
played  his  last  trump.  He  threatened  them 
with  the  arm  of  the  law,  a much  more  effec- 
tive weapon  in  Japan  than  elsewhere.  He 
proposed,  in  fine,  to  walk  three  ri  down  the 
valley  to  the  nearest  police  station  and  fetch  a . 
policeman  who  should  compel  them  to  move 
on.  It  is  perhaps  open  to  doubt  whether  even 
a Japanese  policeman’s  omnipotence  would 
have  extended  so  far.  But  the  threat,  though 
not  conclusive,  had  some  effect.  This  strate- 
gic stroke  I only  learnt  of  later,  and  I laughed 
heartily  when  I did.  That  night,  however, 
it  was  no  laughing  matter,  and  I began  to 
have  doubts  myself.  But  it  was  no  time  for 
misgivings,  so  I went  in  to  help.  The  circle 
round  the  kitchen  fire  was  not  a cheerful 
sight.  To  have  the  courage  of  one’s  con- 
victions is  rare  enough  in  this  weak  world, 


1 62  The  Harinoki  Toge 

but  to  have  the  courage  of  one’s  doubts 
is  something  I uncover  to.  To  furnish  pluck 
for  a whole  company  including  one’s  self  ; to 
hearten  others  without  letting  them  see  how 
sore  in  need  of  heartening  is  the  heartener, 
touches  my  utmost  admiration.  If  only  an- 
other would  say  to  him  that  he  might  believe 
the  very  things  he  does  not  believe,  as  he  says 
them  to  that  other ; they  then  might  at  least 
seem  true.  Ignorance  saved  me.  Had  I 
known  what  they  did,  I should  have  agreed 
with  them  on  the  spot.  As  it  was,  I did  what 
I could,  and  went  back  to  my  own  room,  the 
prey  of  somewhat  lonely  thoughts. 


Toward  the  Pass. 


I was  waked  by  good  news.  The  porters 
had,  to  a certain  extent,  come  round.  If  we 
would  halve  their  burdens  by  doubling  their 
number,  they  would  make  an  attempt  on  the 
pass,  or,  rather,  they  would  go  on  as  far  as 
they  could.  This  was  a great  advance.  To  be 
already  moving  implies  a momentum  of  the 
mind  which  carries  a man  farther  than  he 
means.  I acquiesced  at  once.  The  recruits 
consisted  of  the  master  of  the  house  — his 
father,  the  officiator  at  family  prayers,  had 
retired  from  the  cares  of  this  world  — and  a 
peasant  of  the  neighborhood.  The  charcoal 
burners  were  too  busy  with  their  own  affairs. 
From  the  sill,  as  I put  on  my  boots,  I watched 


1 64  Toward  the  Pass 

with  complacence  the  cording  of  the  loads,  and 
then,  with  quite  a lightsome  gait,  followed  the 
lengthened  file  out  into  the  street.  One  after 
the  other  we  tramped  forth  past  the  few  houses 
of  the  place,  whose  people  watched  us  go,  with 
the  buoyant  tread  of  those  about  to  do  great 
things,  and  so  out  into  the  open. 

The  path  appeared  very  well.  It  trotted 
soberly  along  across  a mountain  moor  until  it 
came  out  above  the  river.  It  then  wound  up 
stream,  clinging  to  the  slope  several  hundred 
feet  above  the  valley  bottom.  It  was  precip- 
itous in  places,  but  within  reason,  and  I was 
just  coming  to  consider  the  accounts  exagger- 
ated when  it  descended  to  the  river  bed  at  a 
point  where  a butt  of  n^ve  stuck  a foot  into 
the  shingle.  The  stream,  which  had  looked  a 
thread  from  above,  turned  out  a torrent  when 
we  stood  upon  its  brink.  The  valley  was 
nothing  but  river  bed,  a mass  of  boulders  of 
all  sizes,  through  the  midst  of  which  the 
stream  plunged  with  deafening  roar,  and  so 


Toward  the  Pass  i6^ 

deep  that  fording  was  out  of  the  question.  A 
man’s  life  would  not  have  been  worth  a rush 
in  it. 

We  followed  up  the  boulder  bank  in  search 
of  a more  propitious  spot.  Then  we  followed 
down  again.  Each  place  promised  at  a dis- 
tance, and  baulked  hope  at  hand.  At  last,  in 
despair,  we  came  to  a halt  opposite  the  widest 
and  shallowest  part,  and  after  no  end  of  urg- 
ing, one  of  the  porters  stripped,  and,  armed 
with  his  pole,  ventured  in.  The  channel  lay 
well  over  to  the  farther  side ; thrice  he  got  to 
its  nearer  edge  and  thrice  he  turned  back,  as 
the  rush  of  water  became  too  great.  His  life 
was  worth  too  much  to  him,  he  said,  not  un- 
naturally, for  him  to  throw  it  away.  Yet  cross 
the  stream  we  must,  or  return  ignominiously ; 
for  the  path  we  had  so  far  followed  had  fallen 
over  the  cliff  in  front. 

We  improved  the  moments  of  reflection  to 
have  lunch.  While  we  were  still  discussing 
viae  and  viands,  and  had  nearly  come  to  the 


1 66  Toward  the  Pass 

end  of  both,  we  suddenly  spied  a string  of  men 
defiling  slowly  down  through  the  wide  boulder 
desert  on  the  other  side.  We  all  rose  and 
hailed  them.  They  were  so  far  away  that  at 
first  they  failed  to  hear  us,  and  even  when  they 
heard  they  stared  vacantly  about  them  like 
men  who  hear  they  know  not  what.  When  at 
last  they  caught  sight  of  us,  we  beckoned  ex- 
citedly. They  consulted,  apparently,  and  then 
one  of  them  came*  down  to  the  edge  of  the 
stream.  The  torrent  made  so  much  noise 
that  our  men  could  make  themselves  intelligi- 
ble only  in  part,  and  that  by  bawling  at  the 
top  of  their  lungs.  Through  the  envoy,  they 
invited  the  band  to  string  themselves  across 
the  stream  and  so  pass  our  things  over.  The 
man  shook  his  head.  We  rose  to  fabulous 
sums  and  still  he  repeated  his  pantomime.  It 
then  occurred  to  Yejiro  that  a certain  place 
lower  down  might  possibly  be  bridged,  and 
beckoning  to  the  man  to  follow,  he  led  the 
way  to  the  spot  in  mind.  A boulder,  two- 


Toward  the  Pass  i6y 

thirds  way  in  stream,  seemed  to  offer  a pier. 
He  tried  to  shout  his  idea,  but  the  roar  of 
the  torrent,  narrow  though  it  was,  drowned 
his  voice ; so,  writing  on  a piece  of  paper : 
“ What  will  you  take  to  build  us  a bridge  t ” 
he  wrapped  the  paper  round  a stone  and 
flung  it  over.  After  reading  this  missive,  the 
spokesman  held  a consultation  with  his  friends 
and  a bargain  was  struck.  For  the  huge  sum 
of  two  yen  (a  dollar  and  a half),  they  agreed  to 
build  us  a bridge,  and  at  once  set  off  up  the 
mountain  side  for  a tree. 

The  men,  it  seemed,  were  a band  of  wood- 
cutters who  had  wintered,  as  was  their  custom, 
in  a hut  at  Kurobe,  which  was  this  side  of 
the  Harinoki  toge,  and  were  just  come  out 
from  their  hibernation.  They  were  now  on 
their  way  to  Ashikura,  where  they  belonged, 
to  report  to  their  headman,  obtain  supplies  and 
start  to  return  on  the  after-morrow.  It  was  a 
two-days’  journey  either  out  or  in. 

Bridges,  therefore,  came  of  their  trade.  The 


1 68  Toward  the  Pass 

distance  across  the  boulder  bed  was  consider- 
able, and  as  they  toiled  slowly  up  the  face  of 
the  opposite  mountain,  they  looked  like  so 
many  ants.  Picking  out  'a  trunk,  they  began 
to  drag  it  down.  By  degrees  they  got  it  to 
the  river  bed,  and  thence  eventually  to  the 
edge  of  the  stream.  To  lay  it  was  quite  a feat 
of  engineering.  With  some  pieces  of  drift- 
wood which  they  found  lying  about,  they 
threw  a span  to  the  big  boulder,  and  from 
the  boulder  managed  to  get  the  trunk  across. 
Then,  with  rope  which  they  carried  at  their 
girdles,  they  lashed  the  whole  together  until 
they  had  patched  up  a very  workmanlike  af- 
fair. We  trod  across  in  triumph.  With 
praiseworthy  care  lest  it  should  be  swept  away 
they  then  took  the  thing  all  down  again. 

Such  valuable  people  were  not  idly  to  be 
parted  with.  Here  was  a rare  chance  to  get 
guides.  When,  however,  we  approached  them 
on  the  point,  they  all  proved  so  conscientious 
about  going  home  first,  that  the  attempt  failed. 


Toward  the  Pass  i6g 

But  they  gave  us  some  important  information 
on  the  state  of  the  streams  ahead  and  the 
means  of  crossing  them,  and  we  separated 
with  much  mutual  good-will. 

For  my  part  I felt  as  if  we  had  already  ar- 
rived somewhere.  I little  knew  what  lay  be- 
yond. While  I was  plodding  along  in  this 
blissfully  ignorant  state  of  mind,  communing 
with  a pipe,  the  path,  which  had  frisked  in  and 
out  for  some  time  among  the  boulders,  sud- 
denly took  it  into  its  head  to  scale  a cliff  on 
the  left.  It  did  this,  as  it  seemed  to  me, 
without  provocation,  after  a certain  reckless 
fashion  of  its  own.  The  higher  it  climbed, 
the  more  foolhardy  it  got,  till  the  down-look 
grew  unpleasant.  Then  it  took  to  coquetting 
with  the  gulf  on  its  right  until,  as  I knew 
would  happen,  it  lost  its  head  completely  and 
fell  over  the  edge.  The  gap  had  been  spanned 
by  a few  loose  boards.  Over  the  makeshift 
we  all,  one  after  the  other,  gingerly  crawled, 
each  waiting  his  turn,  with  the  abyss  gaping 
on  his  side,  for  the  one  in  front  to  move  on. 


lyo  Toward  the  Pass 

We  had  not  yet  recovered  from  the  shock 
when  we  came  to  another  place  not  unlike  the 
first.  Here  again  the  path  had  given  way,  and 
a couple  of  logs  had  been  lashed  across  the 
inner  elbow  of  the  cliff.  We  crossed  this  by 
balancing  ourselves  for  the  first  two  steps  by 
the  stump  of  a bush  that  jutted  out  from  a 
crevice  in  the  rock ; for  the  next  two  we 
touched  the  cliff  with  the  tips  of  our  fingers  ; 
for  the  last  two  we  balanced  ourselves  alone. 

For  the  time  being  the  gods  of  high  places 
had  tempted  us  enough,  for  the  path  now  de- 
scended again  to  the  dry  bed  of  the  stream, 
and  there  for  a certain  distance  tripped  along 
in  all  soberness,  giving  me  the  chance  to  look 
about  me.  The  precipitous  sides  of  the  moun- 
tains that  shut  in  the  narrow  valley  were 
heavily  masked  in  forest ; and  for  some  time 
past,  the  ravines  that  scored  their  sides  had 
been  patched  with  snow.  With  each  new 
mile  of  advance  the  patches  grew  larger  and 
merged  into  one  another,  stretching  toward 


Toward  the  Pass 


171 

the  stream.  We  now  began  to  meet  snow  on 
the  path.  In  the  mean  time,  from  one  cause 
and  another,  insensibly  I fell  behind.  The 
others  passed  on  out  of  sight. 

The  path,  having  lulled  me  into  a confiding 
unconcern,  started  in  seeming  innocence  of 
purpose  to  climb  again.  Its  ingenuousness 
but  prefaced  a malicious  surprise.  For  of  a 
sudden,  unmasking  a corner,  it  presented  itself 
in  profile  ahead,  a narrow  ledge  notched  in 
naked  simplicity  against  the  precipice.  Things 
look  better  slightly  veiled  ; besides,  it  is  more 
decent,  even  in  a path.  In  this  case  the 
shamelessness  was  .earnest  of  the  undoino- 

t>* 

For  on  reaching  the  point  in  view  and  turning 
it  I stood  confronted  by  a sight  sorry  indeed. 
The  path  beyond  had  vanished.  Far  below, 
out  of  sight  over  the  edge,  lay  the  torrent ; un- 
scalable the  cliff  rose  above ; and  a line  of 
fossil  footprints,  leading  across  the  face  of  the 
precipice  in  the  debris,  alone  marked  where 
the  path  had  been.  Spectres  they  seemed 


Toward  the  Pass 


172 

of  their  former  selves.  Crusoe  could  not  have 
been  more  horrified  than  was  I. 

Not  to  have  come  suggested  itself  as  the 
proper  solution,  unfortunately  an  impracticable 
one,  and  being  there,  to  turn  back  was  inad- 
missible. So  I took  myself  in  hand  and 
started.  For  the  first  few  steps  I was  far  too 
much  given  up  to  considering  possibilities. 
I thought  how  a single  misstep  would  end.  I 
could  see  my  footing  slip,  feel  the  conscious- 
ness that  I was  gone,  the  dull  thuds  from 
point  to  point  as  what  remained  of  me 
bounded  beyond  the  visible  edge  down,  down 
. . . And  after  that  what ! How  long  before 
the  porters  missed  me  and  came  back  in 
search  > Would  there  be  any  trace  to  tell 
what  had  befallen.?  And  then  Yejiro  return- 
ing alone  to  T5ky6  to  report  — lost  on  the 
Dragon  peak ! Each  time  I almost  felt  my 
foot  give  way  as  I put  it  dowm,  right  before 
left,  left  before  right. 

Then  I realized  that  this  inopportune  flirting 


Toward  the  Pass  173 

with  fate  must  stop  ; that  I must  give  over 
dallying  with  sensations,  or  it  would  soon  be 
all  over  with  me.  I was  falling  a prey  to  the 
native  Lorelei  — for  all  these  spots  in  Japan 
have  their  familiar  devils  — subjectively,  as  be- 
fits a modern  man.  I numbed  sensibility  as 
best  I could  and  cared  only  to  make  each  step 
secure.  Between  the  Nirvana  within  and  the 
Nirvana  below,  it  was  a sorry  hell. 

In  mid-career  the  path  made  an  attempt  to 
recover,  but  relapsed  to  further  footprints  in 
the  sand.  At  last  it  descended  to  a brook.  I 
knelt  to  drink,  and  on  getting  up  again  saw 
my  pocket-handkerchief  whisking  merrily  away 
down  stream.  I gave  chase,  but  in  vain  ; for 
though  it  came  to  the  surface  once  or  twice  to 
tantalize  me  it  was  gone  before  I could  seize  it. 
So  I gave  over  the  pursuit,  reflecting  that,  after 
all,  it  might  have  fared  worse  with  me.  If  the 
Lorelei  had  hoped  to  turn  my  head,  I was  well 
quit  of  my  handkerchief  for  her  only  trophy. 

Shortly  after  this,  the  main  stream  divided 


Toward  the  Pass 

into  two,  and  the  left  branch,  which  we  followed, 
led  up  to  a gorge,  — beyond  a doubt  the  abom- 
ination of  desolation  spoken  of  by  the  prophet. 

I do  not  remember  a landscape  more  ghastly. 
Not  a tree,  not  a blade  of  grass,  not  even  de- 
cent earth  in  the  whole  prospect.  Apparently, 
the  place  had  been  flayed  alive  and  sulphur  had 
then  been  poured  into  the  sore.  Thirty  years 
before  a cataclysm  had  occurred  here.  The 
side  of  one  of  the  mountains  had  slid  bodily 
into  the  valley.  The  debris,  by  damming  up 
the  stream,  caused  a freshet,  which  swept 
everything  before  it  and  killed  quantities  of 
folk  lower  down  the  valley.  The  place  itself 
has  never  recovered  to  this  day. 

Although  the  stream  here  was  a baby  to  the 
one  below,  it  was  large  enough  to  be  impassa- 
ble to  the  natural  man.  From  our  woodcut- 
ter friends,  however,  we  had  learned  of  the 
leavings  of  a bridge,  upon  which  in  due  time 
we  came,  and  putting  the  parts  of  it  in  place, 
we  passed  successfully  over. 


Toward  the  Pass  175 

We  now  began  to  enter  the  snow  in  good 
earnest,  incipient  glacier  snow,  treacherously 
honeycombed.  It  made,  however,  more  agree- 
able walking  than  the  boulders.  The  path 
had  again  become  precipitous,  and  kept  on 
mounting,  till  of  a sudden  it  landed  us  upon 
an  amphitheatral  arena,  dominated  by  high, 
jagged  peaks.  One  unbroken  stretch  of  snow 
covered  the  plateau,  and  at  the  centre  of  the 
wintry  winding  - sheet  a cluster  of  weather- 
beaten huts  appealed  pitiably  to  the  eye. 
They  were  the  buildings  of  the  Riuzanjita 
hot-springs ; in  summer  a sort  of  secular  mon- 
astery for  pilgrims  to  the  Dragon  peak. 
They  were  tenanted  now,  we  had  been  told, 
by  a couple  of  watchmen.  We  struck  out 
with  freer  strides,  while  the  moon,  which  had 
by  this  time  risen  high  enough  to  overtop  the 
wall  of  peaks,  watched  us  with  an  ashen  face, 
as  in  single  file  we  moved  across  the  waste  of 
level  white. 


Riuianjita. 


We  made  for  the  main  hut,  a low,  mouse- 
colored  shanty  fast  asleep  and  deep  drifted 
in  snow.  The  advance  porter  summoned  the 
place,  and  the  summons  drew  to  what  did  for 
door  a man  as  mouselike  as  his  mansion.  He 
had  about  him  a subdued,  monkish  demeanor 
that  only  partially  hid  an  alertness  within,  — a 
secular  monk  befitting  the  spot.  He  showed 
himself  a kindly  body,  and  after  he  had  helped 
the  porters  off  with  their  packs,  led  the  way 
into  the  room  in  which  he  and  his  mate  hi- 
bernated. It  was  a room  very  much  in  the 
rough  ; boards  for  walls,  for  ceiling,  for  floor, 
its  only  furnishing  a fire.  It  was  the  best  of 
furnishing  in  our  eyes,  and  we  hasted  to  squ  t 


Riu^anjita  H7 

round  it  in  a circle,  in  attitudes  of  extreme 
devotion,  for  it  was  bitter  cold.  The  monkish 
watchman  threw  a handful  more  twigs  on  the 
embers,  out  of  a cheerful  hospitality  to  his 
guests. 

The  fireplace  was  merely  a hole  in  the  floor, 
according  to  Japanese  custom,  and  the  smoke 
found  its  way  out  as  best  it  could.  But  there 
was  very  little  of  it ; usually,  indeed,  there  is 
none,  for  charcoal  is  the  common  combustible. 
A cauldron  hung,  by  iron  bars  jointed  together, 
from  the  gloom  above.  It  was  twilight  in 
the  room.  Already  the  day  without  was  fad- 
ing fast,  and  even  at  high  noon,  none  too 
much  of  it  could  find  a way  into  the  building, 
now  half  buried  under  the  snow.  A second 
watchman  sat  muffled  in  shadow  on  the  far- 
ther side  of  the  fire.  He  made  his  presence 
known,  from  time  to  time,  by  occasional  sym- 
pathetic gutturals,  or  by  the  sudden  glow  of  a 
bit  of  charcoal,  which  he  took  out  of  the  em- 
bers with  a pair  of  chopstick  fire-irons  to 


iy8  Riu^anjita 

relight  his  pipe.  The  talk  naturally  turned 
upon  our  expedition,  with  Yejiro  for  spokes- 
man, and  from  that  easily  slid  into  the  all- 
important  question  of  guides.  Our  inquiries 
on  this  head  elicited  nothing  but  doubt.  We 
tried  at  first  to  get  the  watchmen  to  go.  But 
this  they  positively  refused  to  do.  They  could 
not  leave  their  charge,  in  the  first  place,  they 
said;  and  for  the  second,  they  did  not  know 
the  path.  We  asked  if  there  was  no  one  who 
did.  There  was  a hunter,  they  said,  near  by 
who  was  by  way  of  knowing  the  road.  A mes- 
senger was  sent  at  once  to  fetch  him. 

In  the  mean  time,  if  they  showed  themselves 
skeptical  about  our  future,  they  proved  most 
sympathetic  over  our  past.  Our  description 
of  the  Friday  footprints  especially  brought  out 
much  fellow-feeling.  They  knew  the  spot 
well,  they  said,  and  it  was  very  bad.  In  fact 
it  was  called  the  Oni  ga  Jo,  or  place  of  many 
devils,  for  its  fearfulness.  It  would  be  better, 
they  added,  after  the  mountain  opening  on 
the  tenth  of  June. 


Riu{anjita  >79 

“Mountain  opening!”  said  I to  Yejiro; 

“ what  is  that  ? Is  it  anything  like  the  ‘ river 
opening  ’ ? ” For  the  Japanese  words  seemed 
to  imply  not  a physical,  but  a formal  unlock- 
ing of  the  hills,  like  the  annual  religious  rite 
upon  the  Sumidagawa  in  Toky5.  Such,  it 
appeared,  it  was.  For  the  tenth  of  June,  he 
said,  was  the  date  of  the  mountain  - climbing 
festival.  Yearly  on  that  day  all  the  sacred 
peaks  are  thrown  open  to  a pious  public  for 
ascent.  A procession  of  pilgrims,  headed  by 
a flautist  and  a bellman,  wend  their  way  to 
the  summit,  and  there  encamp.  For  three 
days  the  ceremony  lasts,  after  which  the  moun- 
tains are  objects  of  pilgrimage  till  the  twenty- 
eighth  day  of  August.  For  the  rest  of  the 
year  the  summits  are  held  to  be  shut,  the  gods 
being  then  in  conclave,  to  disturb  whom  were 
the  height  of  impiety.  A pleasing  coincidence 
of  duty  and  pleasure,  that  the  scaling  of  the 
peaks  should  be  enjoined  to  pilgrims  at  the 
times  of  easiest  ascent  I Preparatory  to  the 


i8o  Riu^anjita 

procession  all  the  paths  of  approach  are  re- 
paired. It  was  this  repairing  to  which  the 
watchmen  referred  and  which  concerned  our 
secular  selves. 

Our  difficulties  began  to  be  explained.  We 
were  very  close  to  committing  sacrilege.  We 
had  had,  it  is  true,  no  designs  on  the  peaks, 
but  were  we  wholly  guiltless  in  attempting  so 
much  as  the  passes  in  this  the  close  season  ? 
Apparently  not.  At  all  events,  we  were  a 
month  ahead  of  time  in  our  visit,  which  in 
itself  was  of  questionable  etiquette. 

At  this  point  the  messenger  sent  to  find  the 
hunter  returned  without  his  man.  Evidently 
the  hunter  was  a person  who  meant  to  stand 
well  with  his  gods,  or  else  he  was  himself  a 
myth. 

Distraught  in  mind  and  restless  in  body,  I 
got  up  and  went  out  into  the  great  snow  waste. 
The  sunset  afterglow  was  just  fading  into  the 
moonshine.  The  effect  upon  the  pure  white 
sheet  before  me  was  indescribably  beautiful. 


Riiiianjita 

The  warm  tint  of  the  last  of  day,  as  it  waned, 
dissolved  imperceptibly  into  the  cold  lustre 
of  the  night  as  if  some  alchemist  were  subtly 
changing  the  substance  while  he  kept  the 
form.  For  a new  spirit  was  slowly  possessing 
itself  of  the  very  shapes  that  had  held  the 
old,  and  the  snow  looked  very  silent,  very 
cold,  very  ghostly,  glistening  in  its  silver 
sheen. 

The  sky  was  bitterly  clear,  inhumanly  cold. 
To  call  it  frosty  were  to  humanize  it.  Its 
expanse  stretched  far  more  frozen  than  the 
frozen  earth.  Indeed,  the  night  sky  is  always 
awful.  For  the  most  part,  we  forget  it  for 
the  kindlier  prospect  of  the  cradling  trees, 
and  the  whispers  of  the  wind,  and  the  per- 
fumes of  the  fields,  the  sights  and  sounds  that 
even  in  slumber  stir  with  life ; and  the  nearer 
thrust  away  the  real  horror  of  the  far.  But 
the  awe  speaks  with  insistence  when  the  fore- 
ground itself  is  dead. 

Shivering,  I returned  to  the  fire  and  human 


1 82  Riu^anjita 

companionship.  The  conversation  again  rolled 
upon  precipices,  which  it  appeared  were  more 
numerous  before  than  behind,  and  casualties 
among  the  woodcutters  not  unknown  in  con- 
sequence. There  was  one  place,  they  said, 
where,  if  you  slipped,  you  went  down  a ri  (two 
miles  and  a half).  It  was  here  a woodcutter 
had  been  lost  three  days  before.  The  ri  must 
have  been  a flight  of  fancy,  since  it  far  ex- 
ceeded the  height  of  the  pass  above  the  sea. 
But  a handsome  discount  from  the  statement 
left  an  unpleasant  balance  to  contemplate. 

This  death  had  frightened  one  of  the  watch- 
men badly,  as  it  may  well  have  done.  The 
facts  were  these.  Separated  from  the  hot 
springs  of  Riuzanjita  by  two  passes  lay  a val- 
ley, uninhabited  except  for  two  bands  of  wood- 
cutters, who  had  built  themselves  a couple  of 
huts,  one  on  either  side  the  stream,  in  which 
they  lived  the  year  round.  It  was  these  huts 
that  went  by  the  name  of  Kurobe.  During 
the  winter  they  were  entirely  cut  off  from  the 


Riuianjita  1 

outside  world.  As  soon  as  practicable  in  the 
spring,  a part  of  each  band  was  accustomed 
to  come  out  over  the  passes,  descend  to  Ashi- 
kura,  and  return  with  provisions  and  money. 

Now  this  year,  before  the  men  in  the  valley 
had  thought  it  time  to  attempt  the  passes,  a 
solitary  woodcutter  came  up  to  the  hot  springs 
from  below,  and,  in  spite  of  warning  from  the 
watchmen,  started  alone  for  Kurobe.  On  the 
afternoon  of  the  third  day  after  his  departure, 
the  regular  band  turned  up  at  Riuzanjita, 
having  left  Kurobe,  it  seemed,  that  morning. 
They  passed  the  night  at  the  hot  springs 
hut,  and  on  being  questioned  by  tbe  watch- 
men about  the  man  of  three  days  before,  they 
said  they  had  heard  of  no  such  person.  It 
turned  out,  to  the  horror  of  both  parties,  that 
he  had  never  reached  Kurobe.  It  was  only 
the  night  before  we  arrived  that  the  wood- 
cutters had  been  there,  and  the  affair  was  still 
terribly  fresh  in  the  watchman’s  thoughts ; in 
fact,  it  was  the  identical  band  that  had  built 


184  Riuianjita 

us  our  bridge.  These  men  were  thoroughly 
equipped  for  snow-climbing  and  had  come  over 
safely  ; and  yet,  as  it  was,  the  head  man  of 
the  other  band  at  Kurobe  had  been  afraid  to 
cross  with  them,  and  had,  instead,  gone  all  the 
way  round  by  the  river  and  the  sea,  a very 
long  and  rough  journey.  Fatal  accidents,  the 
watchmen  said,  were  of  yearly  occurrence  on 
the  passes. 

And  all  this  was  only  the  way  to  Kurobe. 
Beyond  it  lay  the  Harinoki  tbge.  That  pass 
no  one  had  yet  crossed  this  year.  And  at  in- 
tervals during  the  talk  the  watchman  repeated 
excitedly,  as  a sort  of  refrain,  “ It  is  impos- 
sible to  go  on,  — it  is  impossible  to  go  on.” 

This  talk,  a part  of  which  I understood, 
was  not  very  heartening,  following  as  it  did 
the  personal  experience  of  the  Oni  ga  Jo. 
The  prospect  began  to  look  too  uncertain  in 
its  conclusion  and  too  certain  in  its  premises 
to  be  inviting.  If  professionals,  properly  ac- 
coutred, found  crossing  so  dangerous  a mat- 


Riu{anjita 

ter,  the  place  was  hardly  one  for  unprovided 
amateurs.  These  mountaineers  were  not  tied 
together,  but  wore  over  their  waraji,  or  straw 
sandals,  a set  of  irons  called  kanakajiki.  We 
were  shown  some  of  them  which  had  been 
left  by  the  woodcutters  against  their  return. 
They  were  skeleton  sandals,  iron  bands  shod 
with  three  spikes.  They  looked  like  instru- 
ments of  torture  from  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
indeed  were  said  to  be  indispensable  against 
backsliding. 

On  the  other  hand,  one  Blondin  feat  over 
the  Devil  Place  was  enough  for  me.  To  take 
it  on  the  road  rather  than  turn  back  was  one 
thing,  to  start  to  take  it  in  cold  blood  an- 
other. I had  had  quite  enough  of  balancing 
and  doubt.  So  I asked  if  there  was  no  other 
way  out.  We  might,  they  said,  go  to  Ari- 
mine. 

“ And  how  was  the  road  ?” 

“ Oh,  the  road  was  good,”  they  answered 
cheerily. 


1 86  Riu^anjita 

“ Could  we  get  a guide  ? ” 

Apparently  we  could  not,  for  an  awkward 
pause  ensued  until,  after  some  suspense,  the 
bigger  of  the  two  watchmen,  he  that  sat  in 
the  shadow  of  the  corner,  volunteered  to  pilot 
us  himself ; and,  he  added,  we  should  not  have 
to  start  betimes,  as  the  snow  would  not  be  fit 
to  travel  on  till  the  sun  had  melted  the  crust. 

Upon  this  doubly  comforting  conclusion  I 
bade  them  good-night,  and  betook  me  to  the 
cell-like  room  allotted  me  to  sleep. 


XVII. 

Over  the  Snow. 

When  Yejiro  pushed  the  shoji  and  the 
amado  (night  shutters)  apart  in  the  morning, 
he  disclosed  a bank  of  snow  four  feet  deep  ; 
not  a snowfall  over  night,  but  the  relic  of  the 
winter.  I found  myself  in  a snow  grotto 
beyond  which  nothing  was  visible.  He  then 
imparted  to  me  the  cheerful  news  that  the 
watchman  had  changed  his  mind,  and  now  re- 
fused to  set  out  with  us.  It  was  too  late  in 
the  day  to  start,  the  man  said,  which,  in  view 
of  his  having  informed  us  only  the  night  be- 
fore that  the  snow  would  not  be  fit  to  travel 
on  till  this  very  hour,  was  scarcely  logical. 
The  trouble  lay  not  in  the  way,  but  in  the 
will.  The  man  had  repented  him  of  his  prom- 


1 88  Over  the  Snow 

ise.  Things  look  differently  as  certainties  in 
the  morning  from  what  they  do  as  possibili- 
ties overnight.  Fortunately  he  proved  amena- 
ble to  importunity,  and  finally  consented  to  go. 
His  fellow  was  much  worried,  and  followed 
him  distressfully  to  the  outer  threshold  ; 
whence  in  perturbation  of  spirit  he  watched 
us  depart,  calling  out  pathetically  to  his  mate 
to  be  very  careful  of  himself.  His  almost 
motherly  solicitude  seemed  to  me  more  comi- 
cal at  the  time  than  it  came  to  seem  later. 

The  sky  was  without  a fleck  of  cloud,  and, 
as  we  struck  out  across  the  snow,  I feared  at 
first  for  my  eyes,  so  great  was  the  glare.  For 
I had  neither  goggles  nor  veil.  In  fact,  we 
were  as  unprepared  a troop  as  ever  started  on 
such  an  expedition.  We  had  not  a pair  of 
foot  spikes  nor  a spiked  pole  to  the  lot  of  us. 

The  jagged  peaks  of  the  valley’s  wall 
notched  the  sky  in  vivid  relief,  their  sharp 
teeth  biting  the  blue.  We  below  were  blink- 
ing. Luckily  before  very  long  we  had  crossed 


Over  the  Snow  iSq 

the  level  and  were  attacking  the  wall,  and 
once  on  it  the  glare  lessened,  for  we  were 
facing  the  south,  and  the  slant  of  the  slope 
took  off  from  the  directness  of  the  sun’s 
rays.  The  higher  we  rose,  the  greater  the 
tilt  became.  The  face  of  the  slope  was  com- 
pletely buried  in  snow  except  where  the  aretes 
stuck  through,  for  the  face  was  well  wrinkled. 

m 

The  angle  soon  grew  unpleasant  to  visage, 
and  certainly  looked  to  have  exceeded  the  limit 
of  stable  equilibrium.  In  mid-ascent,  as  we 
were  winding  cautiously  up,  a porter  slipped. 
He  stopped  himself,  however,  and  was  helped 
on  to  his  feet  again  by  his  fellow  behind. 
The  bad  bit  was  preface  to  a worse  effect 
round  the  corner,  for  on  turning  the  arete,  we 
came  upon  a snow  slope  like  a gigantic  house- 
roof.  It  was  as  steep  as  you  please,  and  dis- 
appeared a few  hundred  feet  below  over  the 
edge  into  the  abyss.  Across  and  up  this  the 
guide,  after  looking  about  him,  struck  out,  and 
I followed.  The  snow  was  in  a plastic  state. 


Over  the  Snow 


I go 

and  at  each  step  I kicked  my  toes  well  in, 
so  wedging  my  footing.  The  view  down  was 
very  unnerving.  It  soon  grew  so  bad  I fixed 
my  thought  solely  on  making  each  step  secure, 
and  went  slowly,  which  was  much  against  my 
inclination.  In  this  manner  we  tacked  gradu- 
ally upward  in  zigzags,  some  forty  feet  apart, 
each  of  us  improving  the  footprints  of  his  pred- 
ecessor. 

After  a short  eternity,  we  came  out  at 
the  top.  I threw  myself  upon  the  snow,  and 
when  I had  sufficiently  recovered  my  breath 
asked  the  guide,  with  what  I meant  for  sar- 
casm, whether  that  was  his  idea  of  “ a good 
road.”  He  owned  that  it  was  the  worst  bit 
on  the  way,  but  he  somewhat  grudgingly  con- 
ceded it  a “ gake.”  I sat  corrected,  but  in  the 
interest  of  any  future  wanderer  I submit  the 
following  definition  of  a “ gake,  which,  if  not 
strictly  accurate,  at  least  leans  to  the  right 
side.  If  the  cliff  overhang,  it  is  a “gake;” 
but  if  a plumb  line  from  the  top  fall  anywhere 


Over  the  Snow  191 

within  the  base,  it  is  no  longer  a “gake,”  but 
“a  good  road.” 

On  the  other  side  the  slope  was  more  hospi- 
table. Even  trees  wintered  just  below  the 
crest,  their  great  gaunt  trunks  thrust  deep  into 
the  snow.  We  glissaded  down  the  first  few 
hundred  feet,  till  we  brought  up  standing  at 
the  head  of  an  incipient  gorge,  likewise  smoth- 
ered in  snow.  Round  the  boles  of  the  trees 
the  snow  had  begun  to  thaw,  which  gave  me 
a chance  to  measure  its  depth,  by  leaning  over 
the  rim  of  the  cup  and  thrusting  my  pole 
down  as  far  as  I could  reach.  The  point  of 
it  must  have  been  over  seven  feet  from  the 
surface,  and  it  touched  no  bottom.  My  inves- 
tigations took  time  enough  to  put  a bend  of 
the  hollow  between  me  and  the  others,  and 
when  at  last  I looked  up  they  were  nowhere 
to  be  seen.  As  I trudged  after  them  alone  I 
felt  like  that  coming  historical  character,  the 
last  man  on  our  then  frozen  earth. 

For  some  minutes  past  a strange,  far-away 


Over  the  Snow 


ig2 

musical  note,  like  the  murmur  of  running 
water,  had  struck  my  ear,  and  yet  all  about 
everything  looked  dead.  Of  animate  or  even 
inanimate  pulsation  there  was  no  sign.  One 
unbroken  sheet  of  snow  stretched  as  far  as  I 
could  see,  in  which  stood  the  great  trees  like 
mummies.  Still  the  sound  continued,  seem- 
ing to  come  from  under  my  feet.  I stopped, 
and,  kneeling  down,  put  my  ear  to  the  crust, 
and  there,  as  distinct  as  possible,  I heard  the 
wimpling  of  a baby  brook,  crooning  to  itself 
under  its  thick  white  blanket.  Here  then  was 
the  cradle  of  one  of  those  streams  that  later 
would  become  such  an  ugly  customer  to  meet. 
It  was  babily  innocent  now,  and  the  one  living 
thing  beside  myself  on  this  May  day  in  the 
great  snow-sheeted  solitude. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  brook  that  had  under- 
mined the  snow.  At  all  events,  soon  after  I 
overtook  the  others,  the  guide,  fearing  to  trust 
to  it  farther,  suddenly  struck  up  again  to  the 
left.  We  all  followed,  remonstrating.  We  had 


Over  the  Snow 


'93 


no  sooner  got  up  than  we  went  down  again  the 
other  side,  and  this  picket-fence  style  of  pro- 
gress continued  till  we  emerged  upon  the  top 
of  a certain  spur,  which  commanded  a fine  view 
of  gorges.  Unfortunately  we  ourselves  were 
on  top  of  some  of  them.  The  guide  recon  noi- 
tered  both  sides  for  a descent,  pushing  his  way 
through  a thick  growth  of  dwarf  bamboo,  and 
brought  up  each  time  on  the  edge  of  an  impas- 
sable fall  to  the  stream  below.  At  last  he 
took  to  the  arete.  It  was  masked  by  trees  for 
some  distance,  and  then  came  out  as  a bare 
knife  edge  of  rock  and  earth.  Down  it  we 
scrambled,  till  the  slope  to  the  side  became 
passable.  This  was  now  much  less  steep,  al- 
though still  steep  enough  for  the  guide  to 
make  me  halt  behind  a tree,  for  fear  of  the 
stones  dislodged  by  those  behind.  These  came 
down  past  us  like  cannon-balls,  ricochetting 
by  big  bounds. 

At  the  bottom  we  reached  the  stream,  and 
beside  it  we  halted  for  lunch.  Just  below  our 


1 94  Over  the  Snow 

resting  place  another  stream  joined  our  own, 
both  coming  down  forbidding-looking  valleys, 
shut  in  by  savage  peaks.  On  the  delta,  be- 
tween the  waters,  we  made  out  a band  of 
hunters,  three  of  them,  tarrying  after  an  un- 
successful chase.  This  last  was  a general  in- 
ference, rather  than  an  observed  fact. 

The  spot  was  ideal  for  picturesque  pur- 
poses, — the  water  clear  as  crystal,  and  the 
sunshine  sparkling.  But  otherwise  matters 
went  ill  with  us.  Our  extempore  guide  had 
promised  us,  over  his  own  fire  the  evening 
before,  a single  day  of  it  to  Arimine.  On  the 
road  his  estimate  of  the  time  needed  had  in- 
creased alarmingly.  From  direct  questioning 
it  now  appeared  that  he  intended  to  camp  out 
on  the  mountain  opposite,  whose  snowy  slopes 
were  painfully  prophetic  of  what  that  night 
would  be.  Besides,  this  meant  another  day 
of  it  to  Arimine  ; and  even  when  we  reached 
Arimine,  we  were  nowhere,  and  I was  scant 
of  time.  We  had  already  lost  three  days  ; if 


Over  the  Snow  '95 

we  kept  on,  I foresaw  the  loss  of  more.  It 
was  very  disheartening  to  turn  back,  but  it 
had  to  be  done. 

Our  object  now  was  to  strike  the  Ashikura 
trail  and  follow  it  down.  The  guide,  however, 
was  not  sure  of  the  path,  so  we  hailed  the 
hunters.  One  of  them  came  across  the  delta 
to  the  edge  of  the  stream  within  shouting  dis- 
tance, and  from  him  we  obtained  knowledge 
of  the  way. 

At  first  the  path  was  unadventurous  enough, 
though  distressingly  rough.  In  truth,  it  was 
no  path  at  all ; it  was  an  abstract  direction. 
It  led  straight  on,  regardless  of  footing,  and 
we  followed,  now  wading  through  swamps, 
now  stumbling  over  roots,  now  ducking  from 
whip-like  twigs  that  cut  us  across  the  face, 
until  at  last  we  emerged  above  the  stream, 
and  upon  a scene  as  grandly  desolate  as  the 
most  morbid  misanthrope  might  wish.  A 
mass  of  boulders  of  all  sizes,  from  a barn  to 
a cobblestone,  completely  filled  a chasm  at  the 


iq6  Over  the  Snow 

base  of  a semicircular  wall  of  castellated  clay- 
cliffs.  Into  the  pit  we  descended.  The  pin- 
nacles above  were  impressively  high,  and  be- 
tween them  were  couloirs  of  ddbris  that  looked 
to  us  to  be  as  perpendicular  as  the  cliffs. 
Up  one  of  these  breakneck  slides  the  guide 
pointed  for  our  path.  Porters  and  all,  we  de- 
murred. Path,  of  course,  there  was  none ; 
there  was  not  even  an  apology  for  a suspicion 
that  any  one  had  ever  been  up  or  down  the 
place.  We  felt  sure  there  must  be  some  other 
way  out.  The  more  we  searched,  however, 
the  less  we  found.  The  stream,  which  was  an 
impassable  torrent,  barred  exit  below  on  our 
side  by  running  straight  into  the  wall  of  rock. 
The  slide  was  an  ugly  climb  to  contemplate, 
yet  we  looked  at  it  some  time  before  we  ac- 
cepted the  inevitable. 

When  in  desperation  we  finally  made  up 
our  minds,  we  began  picking  our  dubious  way 
up  among  a mass  of  rocks  that  threatened  to 
become  a stone  avalanche  at  any  moment. 


Over  the  Snow  ^97 

None  of  us  liked  it,  but  none  of  us  knew  how 
little  the  others  liked  it  till  that  evening.  In 
the  expansion  of  success  we  admitted  our  past 
feelings.  One  poor  porter  said  he  thought 
his  last  hour  had  come,  and  most  of  us  be- 
lieved a near  future  without  us  not  improb- 
able. It  shows  how  danger  unlocks  the  heart 
that  just  because,  halfway  up,  I had  relieved 
this  man  of  his  stick,  which  from  a help  had 
become  a hindrance,  he  felt  toward  me  an  ex- 
aggerated  gratitude.  It  was  nothing  for  me 
to  do,  for  I was  free,  while  he  had  his  load, 
but  had  I really  saved  his  life  he  could  not 
have  been  more  beholden.  Indeed,  it  was  a 
time  to  intensify  emotion. 

As  we  scrambled  upward  on  all  fours,  the 
a.scent,  from  familiarity,  grew  less  formidable. 
At  least  the  stones  decreased  in  size,  although 
their  tilt  remained  the  same,  but  the  angle 
looked  less  steep  from  above  than  from  below. 

At  last,  one  after  the  other,  we  reached  a 
place  to  the  side  of  the  neck  of  the  couloir. 


ig8  Over  the  Snow 

and  scrambling  round  the  coping  of  turf  at  the 
top  emerged,  to  our  surprise,  upon  a path,  or 
rather  upon  the  ghost  of  one.  For  we  found 
ourselves  upon  a narrow  ridge  of  soil  between 
two  chasms,  ending  in  a pinnacle  of  clay,  and 
along  this  ribbon  of  land  ran  a path,  perfectly 
preserv^ed  for  perhaps  a score  of  paces  out, 
when  it  broke  off  bodily  in  mid-air.  The  un- 
toward look  of  the  way  we  had  come  stood 
explained.  Here  clearly  had  been  a cataclysm 
within  itinerary  times.  Some  gigantic  land- 
slide must  have  sliced  the  mountain  off  into 
the  gorge  below,  and  instead  of  a path  we  had 
been  following  its  still  unlaid  phantom.  The 
new-born  character  of  the  chasm  explained  its 
shocking  nakedness.  But  it  was  an  uncom- 
fortable sight  to  see  a path  in  all  its  entirety 
vanish  suddenly  into  the  void. 

The  uncut  end  of  the  former  trail  led  back 
to  a little  tableland  supporting  a patch  of  till- 
ing and  tenanted  by  an  uninhabited  hut.  The 
Willow  Moor  they  called  it,  though  it  seemed 


Over  the  Snow  199 

hardly  big  enough  to  bear  a name.  On  recon- 
noitring for  the  descent,  we  found  the  farther 
side  fallen  away  like  the  first ; so  that  the  pla- 
teau was  now  cut  off  from  all  decent  approach. 
One  of  us,  at  last,  struck  the  butt  end  of  a 
path ; but  we  had  not  gone  far  down  it  before 
it  broke  off,  and  delivered  us  to  the  gullies. 
This  side,  however,  was  much  better  than  the 
other,  and  it  took  none  of  us  very  long  to  slip 
down  the  slope,  repair  the  bridge,  and  join  the 
Ashikura  trail. 

We  were  now  once  more  on  the  path  we 
had  come  up,  with  the  certainty  of  bad  places 
instead  of  their  uncertainty  ahead  of  us,  a 
doubtful  betterment.  The  Oni  ga  Jo  lay  in 
wait  round  the  corner,  and  the  rest  of  the 
familiar  devils  would  all  appear  in  due  course 
of  time. 

Tied  over  my  boots  were  the  straw  sandals 
of  the  country.  They  were  not  made  to  be 
worn  thus,  and  showed  great  uneasiness  in 
their  new  position,  do  what  we  might  with  the 


200  Over  the  Snow 

thongs.  Everybody  tried  his  hand  at  it,  first 
and  last ; but  the  fidgety  things  always  ended 
by  coming  off  at  the  toe  or  the  heel,  or  sluing 
round  to  the  side  till  they  were  worse  than 
useless.  They  were  supposed  to  prevent  one 
from  slipping,  which  no  doubt  they  would 
have  done  had  they  not  begun  by  slipping  off 
themselves.  They  wore  themselves  out  by 
their  nervousness,  and  had  to  be  renewed 
every  little  while  from  the  stock  the  porters 
carried.  In  honor  of  the  Oni  ga  Jo  I had  a 
fresh  pair  put  on  beside  the  brook  sacred  to 
the  memory  of  my  pocket-handkerchief.  We 
then  rose  to  the  Devil  Place,  and  threaded  it 
in  single  file.  Whether  it  were  the  compan- 
ionship, or  familiarity,  or  simply  that  my  right 
side  instead  of  my  left  next  the  cliff  gave 
greater  seeming  security,  I got  over  it  a shade 
more  comfortably  this  time,  though  it  was  still 
far  from  my  ideal  of  an  afternoon’s  walk.  The 
road  to  the  next  world  branched  off  too  dis- 
turbingly to  the  left. 


Over  the  Snow  201 

At  last  the  path  descended  to  the  river  bot- 
tom for  good.  I sat  down  on  a stone,  pulled 
out  my  tobacco  pouch,  and  lit  a pipe.  The 
porters  passed  on  out  of  sight.  Then  I 
trudged  along  myself.  The  tension  of  the 
last  two  days  had  suddenly  ceased,  and  in  the 
expansion  of  spirit  that  ensued  I was  con- 
scious of  a void.  I wanted  some  one  with  me 
then,  perhaps,  more  than  I ever  craved  com- 
panionship before.  The  great  gorge  about 
me  lay  filled  to  the  brim  with  purple  shadow. 
I drank  in  the  cool  shade-scented  air  at  every 
breath.  The  forest-covered  mountain  sides, 
patched  higher  up  with  snow  in  the  gullies, 
shut  out  the  world.  Only  a gilded  bit  here 
and  there  on  some  lofty  spur  lingered  to  hint 
a sun  beyond.  The  strip  of  pale  blue  sky  far 
overhead  bowed  to  meet  the  vista  of  the  valley 
behind,  a vista  of  peaks  more  and  more  snow- 
clad,  till  the  view  was  blocked  at  last  by  a 
white,  nun-veiled  summit,  flushed  now,  in  the 
late  afternoon  light,  to  a tender  rose.  Past 


202  Over  the  Snow 

strain  had  left  the  spirit,  as  past  fatigue  leaves 
the  body,  exquisitely  conscious  ; and  my  fancy 
came  and  walked  with  me  there  in  that  lonely 
valley,  as  it  gave  itself  silently  into  the  arms 
of  night. 

Probably  none  I know  will  ever  tread  where 
I was  treading  then,  nor  I ever  be  again  in 
that  strange  wild  cleft,  so  far  out  of  the  world ; 
and  yet,  if  years  hence  I should  chance  to  wan- 
der there  alone  once  more,  I know  the  ghost 
of  that  romance  will  rise  to  meet  me  as  I pass. 

I own  I made  no  haste  to  overtake  the  cara- 
van. 

Darkness  fell  upon  us  while  we  were  yet  a 
long  way  from  Ashikura,  with  an  uncertain 
cliff  path  between  us  and  it : for  the  path, 
like  a true  mountain  trail,  had  the  passion  for 
climbing  developed  into  a mania,  and  could 
never  rest  content  with  the  river’s  bed  when- 
ever it  spied  a chance  to  rise.  It  had  just 
managed  an  ascent  up  a zigzag  stairway  of  its 
own  invention,  and  had  stepped  out  in  the 


Over  the  Snow  20j 

dark  upon  a patch  of  tall  mountain  grass,  as 
dry  as  straw,  when  Yejiro  conceived  the  bril- 
liant idea  of  torches.  He  had  learned  the  trick 
in  the  Hakone  hills,  where  it  was  the  habit,  he 
told  the  guide,  when  caught  out  at  night ; and 
he  proceeded  to  roll  some  of  the  grass  into 
long  wisps  for  the  purpose.  The  torches  were 
remarkably  picturesque,  and  did  us  service 
beside.  Their  ruddy  flare,  bowing  to  the 
breeze,  but  only  burning  the  more  madly  for 
its  thwarting,  lighted  the  path  like  noonday 
through  a circle  of  fifteen  feet,  and  dropped 
brands,  still  flaring,  into  the  stubble,  which  we 
felt  it  a case  of  conscience  to  stop  and  stamp 
out.  The  circle,  small  as  it  was,  sufficed  to 
disclose  a yawning  gulf  on  the  side,  to  which 
the  path  clung  with  the  persistency  of  infatu- 
ation. 

The  first  thing  to  tell  us  of  approach  to  hu- 
man habitation  was  the  croaking  of  the  frogs. 
After  the  wildness  of  our  day  it  sounded  like 
some  lullaby  of  Mother  Earth,  speaking  of 


204  Over  the  Snow 

hearth  and  home,  and  we  knew  that  we  were 
come  back  to  ricefields  and  man.  It  was  an- 
other half  hour,  however,  before  our  procession 
reached  the  outskirts  of  the  village.  Here 
we  threw  aside  our  torches,  and  in  a weary, 
drawn-out  file  found  our  way,  one  by  one,  into 
the  courtyard  of  the  inn.  It  was  not  an  inn 
the  year  round ; it  became  such  only  at  certain 
seasons,  of  which  the  present  was  not  one.  It 
had  the  habit  of  putting  up  pilgrims  on  their 
way  to  the  Dragon  Peak  ; between  the  times 
of  its  pious  offices  it  relapsed  into  a simple 
farmhouse.  But  the  owner  received  us  none 
the  less  kindly  for  our  inopportune  appearance, 
and  hasted  to  bring  the  water-tubs  for  our  feet. 
Never  was  I more  willing  to  sit  on  the  sill  a 
moment  and  dabble  my  toes ; for  I was  foot- 
sore and  weary,  and  glad  to  be  on  man’s  level 
again.  I promise  you,  we  were  all  very  human 
that  evening,  and  felt  a deal  aloud. 


XVIII. 

A Genial  Inkyo. 

The  owner  of  the  farmhouse  had  inherited 
it  from  his  father.  There  was  nothing  very- 
odd  about  this  even  to  our  other-world  notions 
of  property,  except  that  the  father  was  still 
living,  as  hale  and  hearty  as  you  please,  in  a 
little  den  at  the  foot  of  the  garden.  He  was, 
in  short,  what  is  known  as  an  inkyo,  or  one 
“ dwelling  in  retirement,”  — a singular  state, 
composed  of  equal  parts  of  this  world  and  the 
next ; like  dying  in  theory,  and  then  under- 
taking to  live  on  in  practice.  For  an  inkyo 
is  a man  who  has  formally  handed  in  his  res- 
ignation to  the  community,  and  yet  continues 
to  exist  most  enjoyably  in  the  midst  of  it.  He 
has  abdicated  in  favor  of  his  eldest  son,  and, 


2o6  a Genial  Inhyo 

having  put  off  all  responsibilities,  is  filially 

supported  in  a life  of  ease  and  pleasure. 

In  spite  of  being  no  longer  in  society,  the 
father  was  greedily  social.  As  soon  as  he 
heard  a foreigner  had  arrived,  he  trotted  over 
to  call,  and  nothing  would  do  but  I must  visit 
his  niche  early  in  the  morning,  before  going 
away. 

After  breakfast,  therefore,  the  son  duly 
came  to  fetch  me,  and  we  started  off  through 
the  garden.  For  his  sire’s  place  of  retirement 
lay  away  from  the  road,  toward  the  river,  that 
the  dear  old  gentleman  might  command  a view 
of  the  peaks  opposite,  of  one  of  which,  called 
the  Etchiu  Fuji,  from  its  conical  form,  he  was 
dotingly  fond. 

It  was  an  expedition  getting  there.  This 
arose,  not  from  any  special  fault  in  the  path, 
which  for  the  first  half  of  the  way  consisted 
of  a string  of  stepping-  stones  neatly  laid  in 
the  ground,  and  for  the  latter  fraction  of  no 
worse  mud  than  could  easily  be  met  with  else- 


A Genial  Inhyo  2oy 

where.  The  trouble  came  from  a misunder- 
standing in  foot-gear.  It  seemed  too  short  a 
walk  to  put  one’s  boots  twice  on  and  off  for 
the  doing  of  it.  On  the  other  hand,  to  walk  in 
stocking-feet  was  out  of  the  question,  for  the 
mud.  So  I attempted  a compromise,  consist- 
ing of  my  socks  and  the  native  wooden  clogs, 
and  tried  to  make  the  one  take  kindly  to  the 
other.  But  my  mittenlike  socks  would  have 
none  of  my  thongs,  and,  failing  of  a grip  for 
my  toes,  compelled  me  to  scuffle  along  in  a 
very  undignified  way.  Then  every  few  steps 
one  or  the  other  of  the  clogs  saw  fit  to  stay 
behind,  and  I had  to  halt  to  recover  the  delin- 
quent. I made  a sorry  spectacle  as  I screwed 
about  on  the  remaining  shoe,  groping  after  its 
fellow.  Once  I was  caught  in  the  act  by  my 
cicerone,  who  turned  round  inopportunely  to 
see  why  I was  not  following ; and  twice  in  at- 
tempting the  feat  I all  but  lost  my  balance 
into  the  mud. 

The  worthy  virtuoso,  as  he  was,  met  us  at 


2o8  a Genial  Inhyo 

the  door,  and  escorted  us  upstairs  to  see  his 
treasures.  The  room  was  tapestried  with  all 
manner  of  works  of  art,  of  which  he  was  justly 
proud,  while  the  house  itself  stood  copied  from 
a Chinese  model,  for  he  was  very  classic.  But 
I was  pleased  to  find  that  above  all  his  heart 
was  given  to  the  view.  It  was  shared,  as 
I also  discovered,  by  the  tea-ceremonies,  in 
which  he  was  a proficient ; such  a mixture  is 
man.  But  I believe  the  view  to  have  been 
the  deeper  affection.  While  I was  admiring 
it,  he  fetched  from  a cupboard  a very  suspi- 
cious-looking bottle  of  what  turned  out  to  be 
honey,  and  pressed  a glass  of  it  upon  me.  I 
duly  sipped  this  not  inappropriate  liquor,  since 
cordials  savor  of  asceticism,  and  this  one  being 
of  natural  decoction  peculiarly  befitted  a secu- 
lar anchorite.  Then  I took  my  leave  of  one 
who,  though  no  longer  in  the  world,  was  still 
so  charmingly  of  it. 

The  good  soul  chanced  to  be  a widower,  but 
such  bereavement  is  no  necessary  preliminary 


A Genial  Inkyo  2og 

to  becoming  a “dweller  in  retirement.”  Some- 
times a man  enters  the  inkyo  state  while  he 
still  has  with  him  the  helpmate  of  his  youth, 
and  the  two  go  together  to  this  aftermath  of 
life.  Surely  a pretty  return,  this,  of  the  honey- 
moon ! Darby  and  Joan  starting  once  more 
hand  in  hand,  alone  in  this  Indian  summer  of 
their  love,  as  they  did  years  ago  in  its  spring- 
tide,  before  other  generations  of  their  own  had 
pushed  them  on  to  less  romantic  parts ; Darby 
come  back  from  paternal  cares  to  be  once  more 
the  lover,  and  Joan  from  mother  and  grandam 
again  become  his  girl. 

We  parted  from  our  watchman  - guide  and 
half  our  porters  with  much  feeling,  as  did 
they  from  us.  As  friendships  go  we  had  not 
known  one  another  long,  but  intimacy  is  not 
measured  by  time.  Circumstances  had  thrown 
us  into  one  another’s  arms,  and,  as  we  bade 
good-by  first  to  one  and  then  to  another,  we 
seemed  to  be  severing  a tie  that  touched  very 
near  the  heart. 


210  A Genial  Inkyo 

Two  of  the  porters  came  on  with  us,  as 
much  for  love  as  for  money,  as  far  as  Kami- 
ichi,  where  we  were  to  get  kuruma.  A long 
tramp  we  had  of  it  across  leagues  of  ricefields, 
and  for  a part  of  the  way  beside  a large,  deep 
canal,  finely  bowered  in  trees,  and  flowing  with 
a swift,  dark  current  like  some  huge  boa  wind- 
ing stealthily  under  the  bamboo.  It  was  the 
artery  to  I know  not  how  many  square  miles 
of  field.  We  came  in  for  a steady  drizzle  after 
this,  and  it  was  long  past  noon  before  we 
touched  our  noontide  halt,  and  stalked  at  last 
into  the  inn. 

With  great  difficulty  we  secured  three  ku- 
ruma, — the  place  stood  on  the  limits  of  such 
locomotion,  — and  a crowd  so  dense  collected 
about  them  that  it  blocked  the  way  out.  Ev- 
erybody seemed  smitten  with  a desire  to  see 
the  strangers,  which  gave  the  inn  servants,  by 
virtue  of  their  calling,  an  enviable  distinction 
to  village  eyes.  But  the  porters  stood  high- 
est in  regard,  both  because  of  their  more  inti- 


A Genial  Inkyo  211 

mate  tie  to  us  and  because  we  here  parked 
from  them.  It  was  severing  the  final  link  to 
the  now  happy  past.  We  all  felt  it,  and  told 
our  rosary  of  memories  in  thought,  I doubt 
not,  each  to  himself,  as  we  went  out  into  the 
world  upon  our  different  ways. 

Eight  miles  in  a rain  brought  us  to  the  road 
by  which  we  had  entered  Etchiu  some  days 
before,  and  that  night  we  slept  at  Mikkaichi 
once  more.  On  the  morrow  morning  the 
weather  faired,  and  toward  midday  we  were 
again  facing  the  fringe  of  breakers  from  the 
cliffs.  The  mountain  spurs  looked  the  grim- 
mer that  we  now  knew  them  so  well  by  re- 
pulse. The  air  was  clearer  than  when  we 
came,  and  as  we  gazed  out  over  the  ocean  we 
could  see  for  the  first  half  day  the  faint  coast 
line  of  Noto,  stretching  toward  us  like  an  arm 
along  the  horizon.  We  watched  it  at  inter- 
vals as  long  as  it  was  recognizable,  and  when 
at  last  it  vanished  beyond  even  imagination’s 
power  to  conjure  up,  felt  a strange  pang  of 


212  A Genial  Inkyo 

personal  regret.  The  sea  that  snatches  away 
so  many  lands  at  parting  seems  fitly  inhuman 
to  the  deed. 

In  the  course  of  these  two  days  two  things 
happened  which  pointed  curiously  to  the  isola- 
tion of  this  part  of  Japan.  The  first  was  the 
near  meeting  with  another  foreigner,  which 
would  seem  to  imply  precisely  the  contrary. 
But  the  unwonted  excitement  into  which  the 
event  threw  Yejiro  and  me  was  proof  enough 
of  its  strangeness.  It  was  while  I was  sipping 
tea,  waiting  for  a fresh  relay  of  kuruma  at 
Namerigawa,  that  Yejiro  rushed  in  to  an- 
nounce that  another  foreigner  was  resting 
at  an  inn  a little  further  up  town.  He  had 
arrived  shortly  before  from  the  Echigo  side, 
report  said.  The  passing  of  royalty  or  even 
a circus  would  have  been  tame  news  in  com- 
parison. Of  course  I hastened  into  my  boots 
and  sallied  forth.  I did  not  call  on  him  for- 
mally, but  I inspected  the  front  of  the  inn  in 
which  he  was  said  to  be,  with  peculiar  expec- 


A Genial  Inkyo  ^^3 

tation  of  spirit,  in  spite  of  my  affected  uncon- 
cern. He  was,  I believe,  a German  ; but  he 
never  took  shape. 

The  second  event  occurred  the  next  evening, 
and  was  even  more  singular.  Like  the  dodo 
it  chronicled  survival.  It  was  manifested  in 
the  person  of  a policeman. 

Some  time  after  our  arrival  at  the  inn  Ye- 
jiro  reported  that  the  police  officer  wished  to 
see  me.  The  man  had  already  seen  the  im- 
portant part  of  me,  the  passport,  and  I was 
at  a loss  to  imagine  what  more  he  could  want. 
So  Yejiro  was  sent  back  to  investigate.  He 
returned  shortly  with  a sad  case  of  concern 
for  consideration,  and  he  hardly  kept  his  face 
as  he  told  it.  The  conscientious  officer,  it 
seemed,  wished  to  sleep  outside  my  room  for 
my  protection.  From  the  passport  he  felt 
himself  responsible  for  my  safety,  and  had 
concluded  that  the  least  he  could  do  would 
be  not  to  leave  me  for  a moment.  I assured 
him,  through  Yejiro,  that  his  offer  was  most 


214  A Genial  Inkyo 

thoughtful,  but  unnecessary.  But  what  an 
out-of-the-world  corner  the  thought  implied, 
and  what  a fine  fossil  the  good  soul  must 
have  been ! Here  was  survival  with  an  em- 
phasis ! The  man  had  slept  soundly  through 
twenty  years  or  more  of  change,  and  was  still 
in  the  pre-foreign  days  of  the  feudal  ages. 

The  prices  of  kuruma,  too,  were  pleasingly 
behind  the  times.  They  were  but  two -fifths 
of  what  we  should  have  had  to  pay  on  the 
southern  coast.  As  we  advanced  toward  Shin- 
shiu,  however,  the  prices  advanced  too.  In- 
deed, the  one  advance  accurately  measured 
the  other.  We  were  getting  back  again  into 
the  world,  it  was  painfully  evident.  At  last 
fares  rose  to  six  cents  a ri.  Before  they  could 
mount  higher  we  had  taken  refuge  in  the 
train,  and  were  hurrying  toward  Zenkoji  by 
steam. 

Our  objective  point  was  now  the  descent  of 
the  Tenriugawa  rapids.  It  was  not  the  short- 
est way  home,  but  it  was  part  of  our  projected 


A Genial  Inkyo  2/5 

itinerary  and  took  us  through  a country  typ- 
ical of  the  heart  of  Japan.  It  began  with  a 
fine  succession  of  passes.  These  I had  once 
taken  on  a journey  years  before  with  a friend, 
and  as  we  started  now  up  the  first  one,  the 
Saru  ga  Bamba  no  toge,  I tried  to  make  the 
new  impression  fit  the  old  remembrance.  But 
man  had  been  at  work  upon  the  place  with- 
out, and  imagination  still  more  upon  its  pic- 
ture within.  It  was  another  t5ge  we  climbed 
in  the  light  of  that  latter-day  afternoon.  With 
the  companion  the  old  had  passed  away. 

Leaving  the  others  to  follow,  I started  down 
the  zigzags  on  the  farther  side.  It  was  al- 
ready dusk,  and  the  steepness  of  the  road  and 
the  brisk  night  air  sent  me  swinging  down 
the  turns  with  something  of  the  anchor-like 
escapement  of  a watch.  Midway  I passed  a 
solitary  pedestrian,  who  was  trolling  to  himself 
down  the  descent ; and  when  in  turn  he  passed 
me,  as  I was  waiting  under  a tree  for  the 
others  to  catch  up,  he  eyed  me  suspiciously. 


21 6 A Genial  Inhyo 

as  one  whose  wanderings  were  questionable. 
They  were  certainly  questionable  to  myself, 
for  by  that  time  we  were  come  to  habitations, 
and  each  fresh  light  I saw  I took  for  the 
village  where  we  were  to  stop  for  the  night, 
in  spite  of  repeated  disillusionings. 

Overhead,  the  larger  stars  came  out  and 
winked  at  me,  and  then,  as  the  fields  of 
space  became  more  and  more  lighted  with 
star-points,  the  hearth-fires  to  other  homes  of 
worlds,  I thought  how  local,  after  all,  is  the 
great  cone  of  shadow  we  men  call  night ; for 
it  is  only  nature’s  nightcap  for  the  nodding 
earth,  as  she  turns  her  head  away  from  the 
sun  to  lie  pillowed  in  space. 

The  next  day  was  notable  chiefly  for  the 
up-and-down  character  of  the  country  even  for 
Japan  ; which  was  excelled  only  by  the  unhes- 
itating acceptance  of  it  on  the  part  of  the 
road,  and  this  in  its  turn  only  by  the  crowds 
that  traveled  it.  It  seemed  that  the  desire 
to  go  increased  inversely  as  the  difficulty  in 


A Genial  Inkyo  217 

going.  The  wayfarers  were  most  sociable 
folk,  and  for  a people  with  whom  personality 
is  at  a discount  singularly  given  to  personali- 
ties. Not  a man  who  had  a decent  chance 
but  asked  whither  we  were  going  and  whence 
we  had  come.  To  the  first  half  of  the  coun- 
try-side we  confided  so  much  of  our  private 
history ; to  the  second  we  contented  ourselves 
in  saying,  with  elaborate  courtesy,  “ The  same 
as  six  years  ago,”  an  answer  which  sounded 
polite,  and  rendered  the  surprised  questioner 
speechless  for  the  time  we  took  to  pass. 

Especially  the  women  added  to  the  pic- 
turesqueness of  the  landscape.  Their  heads 
done  up  in  gay-colored  kerchiefs,  framing  their 
round  and  rosy  faces,  their  kit  slung  over  their 
shoulders,  and  their  kimono  tucked  in  at  their 
waists,  they  trudged  along  on  useful  pairs  of 
ankles  neatly  cased  in  lavender  gaiters.  Some 
followed  dutifully  behind  their  husbands  ; oth- 
ers chatted  along  in  company  with  their  kind, 
— members  these  last  of  some  pilgrim  associ- 
ation. 


2i8  y4  Genial  Inhyo 

There  were  wayfarers,  too,  of  less  happy 
mind.  For  over  the  last  pass  the  authorities 
were  building  a new  road,  and  long  lines  of 
pink-coated  convicts  marched  to  and  fro  at 
work  upon  it,  under  the  surveillance  of  the 
dark-blue  police  ; and  the  sight  made  me  think 
how  little  the  momentary  living  counts  in  the 
actual  life.  Here  we  were,  two  sets  of  men, 
doing  for  the  time  an  identical  thing,  trudging 
along  a mountain  path  in  the  fresh  May  air ; 
and  yet  to  the  one  the  day  seemed  all  sun- 
shine, to  the  other  nothing  but  cloud. 


XIX. 


Our  Passport  and  the  Basha. 

It  was  bound  to  come,  and  we  knew  it ; it 
was  only  a question  of  time.  But  then  we  had 
braved  the  law  so  far  so  well,  we  had  almost 
come  to  believe  that  we  should  escape  alto- 
gether. I mean  the  fatal  detection  by  the 
police  that  we  were  violating  my  passport. 
That  document  had  already  outrun  the  statute 
of  limitations,  and  left  me  no  better  than  an 
outlaw.  For  practical  purposes  my  character 
was  gone,  and  being  thus  self-convicted  I 
might  be  arrested  at  any  moment ! 

In  consequence  of  pending  treaty  negotia- 
tions the  government  had  become  particular 
about  the  privileges  it  granted.  One  of  the 
first  counter-moves  to  foreign  insistence  on 
exterritoriality  was  the  restricting  of  passports 


220  Our  Passport  and  the  Basha 
to  a fortnight’s  time.  You  might  lay  out  any 
tour  you  chose,  and  if  granted  by  the  govern- 
ment, the  provinces  designated  would  all  be 
duly  inscribed  in  your  passport,  but  you  had 
to  compass  them  all  in  the  fortnight  or  be  pun- 
ished. Of  course  this  could  be  evaded,  and 
a Japanese  friend  in  the  foreign  office  had 
kindly  promised  to  send  me  an  extension  on 
telegraph.  But  the  dislike  of  being  tied  to 
times  and  places  made  me  sinfully  prefer  the 
risk  of  being  marched  back  to  Tokyo  under 
the  charge  of  a policeman,  a fate  I had  seen 
overtake  one  or  two  other  malefactors  caught 
at  somewhat  different  crimes,  whom  we  had 
casually  met  on  the  road.  The  Harinoki  toge 
was  largely  to  blame  for  the  delay,  it  is  true. 
But  then  unluckily  the  Harinoki  toge  could 
not  be  arrested,  and  I could. 

The  bespectacled  authorities  who  examined 
my  credentials  every  night  had  hitherto 
winked  at  my  guilt,  so  that  the  bolt  fell  upon 
us  from  a clear  sky.  It  is  almost  question- 


Our  Passport  and  the  Basba  221 
able  whether  it  had  a right  to  fall  at  that 
moment  at  all.  It  was  certainly  a case  of 
officious  officialdom.  For  we  had  stopped  sim- 
ply to  change  kuruma,  and  the  unwritten  rule 
of  the  road  runs  that  so  long  as  the  traveler 
keeps  moving  he  is  safe.  To  catch  him  nap- 
ping at  night  is  the  recognized  custom. 

Besides,  the  police  might  have  chosen,  even 
by  day,  some  other  opportunity  to  light  upon 
us  than  in  the  very  thick  of  our  wrestle  with 
the  extortionate  prices  of  fresh  kuruma.  It 
was  inconsiderate  of  them,  to  say  the  least ; 
for  the  attack  naturally  threw  us  into  a cer- 
tain disrepute  not  calculated  to  cheapen  fares. 
Then,  too,  our  obvious  haste  helped  furnish 
circumstantial  evidence  of  crime. 

Nevertheless,  in  the  very  midst  of  these 
difficult  negotiations  at  Matsumoto,  evil  fate 
presented  itself,  clothed  as  a policeman,  and 
demanded  our  papers.  Luckily  they  were  not 
at  the  very  bottom  of  the  baggage,  but  in  Ye- 
jiro’s  bosom  ; for  otherwise  oifr  effects  would 


222  Our  Passport  and  the  Basba 
have  become  a public  show,  and  collected  an 
even  greater  crowd  than  actually  gathered. 
The  arm  of  the  law  took  the  passport,  fell  at 
once  on  the  indefensible  date,  and  pointed  it 
out  to  us.  There  we  were,  caught  in  the  act. 
We  sank  several  degrees  instantly  in  every- 
body’s estimation. 

How  we  escaped  is  a secret  of  the  Japanese 
force ; for  escape  we  did.  We  admitted  our 
misfortune  to  the  policeman,  and  expressed 
ourselves  as  even  more  desirous  of  getting 
back  to  Tokyo  than  he  could  be  to  have  us 
there.  But  we  pointed  out  that  now  the 
Tenriugawa  was  to  all  intents  as  short  a way 
as  any,  and  furthermore  that  it  was  the  one 
expressly  nominated  in  the  bond.  The  police- 
man stood  perplexed.  Out  of  doubt  or  cour- 
tesy, or  both,  he  hesitated  for  some  moments, 
and  then  reluctantly  handed  the  passport  back. 
We  stood  acquitted.  Indeed  we  were  not  only 
suffered  to  proceed,  and  that  in  our  own  way, 
but  he  actually  accelerated  matters  himself, 


Oiir  Passport  and  the  Basha  22^ 
for  he  turned  to  against  the  kuruma,  to  their 
instant  discomfiture.  Indeed,  this  was  quite 
as  it  should  be,  for  he  was  as  anxious  to  be 
rid  of  us  as  we  were  to  be  quit  of  him. 

On  the  road  the  kuruma  proved  unruly. 
The  exposure  we  had  sustained  may  have 
helped  to  this,  or  the  coercion  of  the  police- 
man may  have  worked  revolt.  They  jogged 
along  more  and  more  reluctantly,  till,  at  last, 
the  worst  of  them  refused  to  go  on  at  all. 
After  some  quite  useless  altercation,  we  made 
what  shift  we  might  with  the  remainder,  but 
had  not  got  far  when  we  heard  the  toot  of  a 
fish-horn  behind,  and  the  sound  gradually  over- 
hauled us.  Now,  a fish-horn  on  a country 
road  in  Japan  means  a basha,  and  a basha 
means  the  embodiment  of  the  objectionable. 
It  is  a vehicle  to  be  avoided ; both  externally 
like  a fire-engine,  and  internally  like  an  ambu- 
lance or  a hearse.  Indeed,  so  far  as  its  victim 
is  concerned,  it  usually  ends  by  becoming  a 
cross  between  the  latter  two.  It  is  a machine 


224  Our  Passport  and  the  Basha 
absolutely  devoid  of  recommendations.  I speak 
from  experience,  for  in  a moment  of  adven- 
ture I once  took  passage  in  one,  some  years 
ago,  and  I never  mean  to  do  so  again.  Even 
the  sound  of  its  fish-horn  now  provokes  me 
to  evil  thoughts.  But  we  were  in  a bad 
way,  and,  to  my  wonder,  I found  my  senti- 
ments perceptibly  softening.  Before  the  thing 
caught  up  with  us,  I had  actually  resolved  to 
take  it. 

We  made  signals  of  distress,  and,  rather  con- 
trary to  my  expectation,  the  machine  stopped. 
The  driver  pulled  up,  and  the  guard,  a half- 
grown  boy,  who  sat  next  him  on  the  seat  in 
front,  making  melody  on  the  horn,  jumped 
down,  a strange  bundle  of  consequence  and 
courtesy,  and  helped  us  and  our  belongings  in. 
He  then  swung  himself  into  his  seat,  as  the 
basha  set  off  again,  and  fell  to  tooting  vocif- 
erously. We  had  scarce  got  settled  before 
the  vehicle  was  dashing  along  at  what  seemed, 
to  our  late  perambulator  experience,  a per- 


Our  Passport  and  the  Basha  225 
fectly  breakneck  speed.  The  pace  and  the 
enthusiasm  of  the  boy  infected  us.  Yejiro  and 
I fell  to  congratulating  each  other,  with  some 
fervor,  on  our  change  of  conveyance,  and  each 
time  we  spoke,  the  boy  whisked  round  in  his 
seat  and  cried  out,  with  a knowing  wag  of  his 
head,  “ I tell  you,  it ’s  fast,  a basha ! He  ! ” and 
then  as  suddenly  whisked  back  again,  and  fell 
to  tooting  with  renewed  vigor,  like  one  who 
had  been  momentarily  derelict  in  duty.  The 
road  was  quite  deserted,  so  that  so  much  noise 
would  have  seemed  unnecessary.  The  boy 
thought  otherwise.  Meanwhile,  we  were  being 
frightfully  jolted,  and  occasionally  slung  round 
corners  in  a way  to  make  holding  on  a pain- 
ful labor. 

I suppose  the  unwonted  speed  must  have 
intoxicated  us.  There  is  nothing  else  that  will 
account  for  our  loss  of  head.  For,  before  we 
were  well  out  of  the  machine,  we  had  begun 
negotiations  for  its  exclusive  possession  on  the 
morrow  ; and  by  the  time  we  were  fairly  in- 


226  Our  Passport  and  the  Basha 
stalled  in  the  inn  at  Shiwojiri,  the  bargain 
stood  complete.  In  consideration  of  no  exor- 
bitant sum,  the  vehicle,  with  all  appertaining 
thereto,  was  to  be  taken  off  its  regular  route 
and  wander,  like  any  tramp,  at  our  sweet  will, 
in  quite  a contrary  direction.  The  boy  with 
the  horn  was  expressly  included  in  the  lease. 
By  this  arrangement  we  hoped  to  compass  two 
days’  journey  in  one,  and  reach  by  the  mor- 
row’s night  the  point  where  boats  are  taken 
for  the  descent  of  the  Tenriugawa  rapids. 
We  knew  the  drive  would  be  painful,  but  we 
had  every  promise  that  it  would  be  fast. 

The  inn  at  Shiwojiri  possessed  a foreign 
table  and  chairs ; a bit  of  furnishing  from 
which  the  freshness  of  surprise  never  wore 
off.  What  was  even  less  to  be  looked  for,  the 
son  of  the  house  was  proficient  in  English, 
having  studied  with  a missionary  in  Tokyo.  I 
had  some  talk  with  him  later,  and  lent  him  an 
English  classic  which  he  showed  great  desire 


to  see. 


Our  Passport  and  the  Basha  227 
Betimes  the  next  morning  the  basha  ap- 
peared, both  driver  and  guard  got  up  in  a 
fine  dark-green  uniform,  a spruceness  it  much 
tickled  our  vanity  to  mark.  With  a feeling 
akin  to  princely  pride  we  stepped  in,  the  driver 
cracked  his  whip,  and,  amid  the  bows  of  the 
inn  household,  we  went  off  up  the  street. 
Barring  the  loss  of  an  umbrella,  which  had 
happened  somewhere  between  the  time  we 
boarded  the  basha  on  the  yestereen  and  the 
hour  of  departure  that  morning,  and  an  ex- 
haustive but  vain  hunt  for  the  same,  first  in 
the  vehicle  and  then  at  the  stables,  nothing 
marred  the  serenity  of  our  first  half  hour. 
The  sky  was  dreamy ; a delicate  blue  seen 
through  a golden  gauze.  I fancy  it  was  such 
a sky  with  which  Danae  fell  in  love.  We 
rose  slowly  up  the  Shiwojiri  pass,  which  a 
new  road  enabled  even  the  basha  to  do  quite 
comfortably ; and  the  southern  peaks  of  the 
Hida-Shinshiu  range  rose  to  correspond  across 
the  valley,  the  snow  line  distinctly  visible, 


228  Our  Passport  and  the  Basha 
though  the  nearer  ranges  did  their  best  to 
cut  it  off.  Norikura,  the  Saddle,  especially, 
showed  a fine  bit  of  its  ten  thousand  feet, 
wrapped  in  the  indistinctness  of  the  spring 
haze.  The  heavy  air  gave  a look  of  slumber 
to  the  peaks,  as  if  those  summits,  waked  be- 
fore the  rest  of  the  world,  had  already  grown 
drowsy.  We  had  not  yet  ceased  gazing  at 
them  when  a turn  of  the  road  shut  them  out. 
A rise  of  a few  feet,  a dip,  a turn,  and  the 
lake  of  Suwa  lay  below  us  on  the  other  side, 
flanked  by  its  own  mountains,  through  a gap 
in  which  showed  the  just  perceptible  cone  of 
Fuji. 

The  Shiwojiri  toge  is  not  a high  pass,  and 
yet  it  does  duty  as  part  of  a ^reat  divide. 
A drop  of  water,  falling  on  the  Shiwojiri  side, 
if  it  chance  to  meet  with  other  drops  before 
it  be  snatched  up  again  into  the  sky,  wanders 
into  the  sea  of  Japan ; while  its  fellow,  coming 
to  earth  not  a yard  away,  ends  at  last  in  the 
Pacific  ocean.  Our  way  now  lay  with  the 


Our  Passport  and  the  Basha  229 
latter.  For  the  Tenriugawa,  or  River  of  the 
Heavenly  Dragon,  takes  its  rise  in  the  lake 
of  Suwa,  a bowl  of  water  a couple  of  miles 
or  more  across.  It  trickles  out  insignificantly 
enough  at  one  end  ; gathers  strength  for  fifty 
miles  of  flow,  and  then  for  another  hundred 
cuts  its  way  clean  across  a range  of  moun- 
tains. How  it  ever  got  through  originally,  and 
why,  are  interesting  mysteries.  Its  gorge  is 
now  from  one  to  two  thousand  feet  deep,  cleft, 
not  through  a plateau,  but  through  the  axis 
of  a mountain  chain.  In  most  places  there 
is  not  a yard  to  spare. 

We  were  still  a doubtful  day  off  from 
where  it  is  customary  to  take  a boat.  We 
had  started  somewhat  late,  stopped  for  the 
lack  of  umbrella,  and  now  were  committed  to 
a digression  for  letters  I expected  at  Shimo- 
nosuwa.  I never  order  my  letters  to  meet 
me  on  the  line  of  march  but  I bitterly  repent 
having  chosen  that  special  spot.  There  is 
always  some  excellent  reason  why  it  turns 


2^0  Our  Passport  and  the  Basha 
out  most  inconvenient.  But  as  yet  I was 
hopeful,  for  I thought  I knew  the  speed  of 
the  basha,  and  the  day  was  still  young. 

The  day  had  grown  older  and  I wiser  by 
the  time  my  letters  were  read,  with  their 
strange  perfume  from  outre-mer,  the  horses 
harnessed  afresh,  and  we  under  way  once 
more,  clattering  down  the  main  street  of  the 
village.  It  was  not  only  in  the  village  that 
we  made  a stir.  A basha  is  equal  to  the 
occasion  anywhere.  The  whole  countryside 
stopped  in  its  tracks  to  turn  and  stare  as  we 
passed,  and  at  one  point  we  came  in  for  a per- 
fect ovation  ; for  our  passage  and  the  noonday 
recess  of  a school  happening  to  coincide,  the 
children,  at  that  moment  let  loose,  instantly 
dashed  after  us  pell-mell,  in  a mass,  shouting. 
One  or  two  of  them  were  so  eager  in  the 
chase  that  they  minded  not  where  they  went, 
and,  tripping  over  stones  or  ruts,  fell  head- 
long in  the  mud.  The  rest  pursued  us  pant- 
ing, each  according  to  his  legs,  and  gave  over 
at  last  only  for  want  of  wind. 


Our  Passport  and  the  Basha  2^1 
The  guard  was  supremely  happy.  What 
time  the  upper  half  of  him  was  too  tired  to 
toot  the  lower  half  spent  in  hopping  off  his 
seat  and  on  again  upon  imaginary  duty.  Mean- 
while, in  spite  of  enlivenments  not  included  in 
the  bill,  my  old  dislike  was  slowly  but  surely 
coming  back.  I began  to  be  uneasy  on  the 
score  of  time.  The  speed  was  not  what  hope 
and  the  company  had  led  me  to  expect.  I went 
through  some  elaborate  rule-of-three  calcula- 
tion between  the  distance,  the  speed,  and  the 
time  ; and,  as  far  as  I could  make  out,  it  began 
to  look  questionable  whether  we  should  arrive 
that  night  at  all.  I had  already  played  the  part 
of  goad  out  of  precaution  ; I now  had  to  take  to 
it  in  good  earnest,  — futilely,  to  boot.  Mean- 
while my  body  was  as  uneasy  as  my  mind.  In 
the  first  place,  the  seats  faced  sideways,  so  that 
we  progressed  after  the  fashion  of  crabs.  Sec- 
ondly, the  vehicle  hardly  made  apologies  for 
springs.  We  were  rattled  about  like  parched 
corn  in  a hopper. 


2}2  Our  Passport  and  the  Basha 

What  a blessed  trick  of  memory  that,  of 
winnowing  the  joys  of  travel  from  its  discom- 
forts, and  letting  the  latter  slip  unconsciously 
away ! The  dust  and  the  heat  and  the  thou- 
sand petty  annoyances  pass  with  the  fact  to  be 
forgotten,  while  the  snow-hooded  mountains 
and  the  deep  blue  sky  and  the  smiling  fields 
stay  with  us,  a part  of  ourselves.  That  drive 
seems  golden  as  I look  back  upon  it ; yet  how 
sadly  discomforting  it  was  at  the  time ! 

Toward  afternoon  a rumor  became  current 
that  the  road  had  been  washed  away  ahead, 
and  that  the  basha  would  have  to  stop  some 
miles  short  of  where  we  had  hoped  to  be  that 
night.  This  was  disheartening.  For  with  all 
its  shortcomings  the  basha  was  undeniably 
faster  than  perambulators.  The  rumor  gath- 
ered substance  as  we  advanced,  until  in  con- 
sequence we  ceased  to  advance  at  all.  At  a 
certain  village,  called  Miyada,  the  basha  drew 
up,  and  we  were  informed  that  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  proceed  further. 


Our  Passport  and  the  Basha 
There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  hire  kuruma. 
The  men  were  a rascally  lot,  and  made  gain  of 
our  necessity.  But  we  were  not  as  sorry  to 
leave  the  basha  as  we  might  have  been,  and 
the  reports  of  impassability  substantiated  them- 
selves before  we  had  got  a mile  out.  In  fur- 

• 

ther  consolation,  the  kuruma  men  turned  out 
well  on  the  road,  and  bowled  us  along  right 
merrily.  The  road  ran  along  the  skirts  of  the 
mountains  on  the  right,  which  fell  in  one  long 
sweep  to  the  river,  a breadth  of  plain  unex- 
pectedly gored  by  streams.  The  canons  were 
startlingly  abrupt,  and  the  darkness  which  now 
came  on  took  nothing  from  the  effect.  A sud- 
den zigzag  down  to  a depth  of  a hundred  feet, 
a careful  hitching  over  a decrepit  bridge,  and 
a zigzag  up  the  other  side,  and  we  were  off 
at  a good  trot  again.  This  dispatch  on  the 
part  of  the  men  brought  us  in  much-improved 
spirits  and  in  very  good  time  into  lijima,  our 
hoped-for  goal. 


XX. 

Down  the  Tenriugawa. 

We  had  made  arrangements  overnight  for  a 
boat,  not  without  difficulty,  and  in  the  morning 
we  started  in  kuruma  for  the  point  of  embarka- 
tion. We  were  eager  to  be  off  upon  our  voy- 
age, else  we  should  have  strolled  afoot  down 
the  long  meadow  slope,  such  invitation  lay 
in  it,  the  dew  sparkling  on  the  grass  blades, 
the  freshly  tilled  earth  scenting  the  air,  and 
the  larks  rising  like  rockets  up  into  the  sky 
and  bursting  into  song  as  they  went.  It 
seemed  the  essence  of  spring,  and  we  had  a 
mile  or  more  of  it  all  before  we  reached  the 
brink  of  the  canon.  For  even  here  the  river 
had  begun  a gorge  for  itself  through  the  plain. 
We  left  our  jinrikisha  at  the  top  and  zigzagged 


Down  the  Tenriugawa  ^35 

on  foot  down  the  steep  descent,  and  straight- 
way departed  the  upper  life  of  fields  and  larks 
and  sunshine  for  a new  and  semi-subterra- 
nean one.  It  was  not  simply  a change  of 
scene ; it  was  a complete  change  of  sphere. 
The  world  with  its  face  open  to  the  day  in  a 
twinkling  had  ceased  to  be,  and  another  world, 
a world  of  dark  water  girt  by  shadowed  walls 
of  rock  and  trees,  had  taken  its  place. 

Amid  farewell  wavings  from  the  jinrikisha 
men  we  pushed  off  into  the  stream.  In  spite 
of  the  rush  of  the  water  and  the  creaking  of 
the  oars,  a strange  stillness  had  fallen  on  every- 
thing. The  swirling,  inky  flood  swept  us  on 
past  the  hushed  banks,  heights  of  motionless 
leaves  nearly  hiding  the  gray  old  rock.  Occa- 
sionally some  puff  of  wind  more  adventurous 
than  its  fellows  swooped  down  to  make  the 
leaves  quiver  a moment,  and  then  died  away  in 
awe,  while  here  and  there  a bird  flew  in  and 
out  among  the  branches  with  strangely  sub 
dued  twitter. 


2^6  Down  the  Tenrhigawa 

Although  this  part  of  the  river  could  show 
its  gorge  and  its  rapids,  it  made  only  the 
preface  to  that  chapter  of  its  biography  we 
had  come  to  read.  At  Tokimata,  some  hours 
further  down,  begins  the  voyage  proper.  But 
even  the  preface  was  imposing.  The  black 
water  glided  sinuous  along,  its  stealthy  course 
every  now  and  again  interrupted  by  rapids, 
where  the  sullen  flood  lashed  itself  to  a pas- 
sion of  whitecaps  with  a kind  of  hissing  roar. 
Down  these  we  shot,  the  boat  bowing  first  in 
acquiescence,  and  then  plunging  as  madly  as 
the  water  itself.  It  was  hard  to  believe  that 
both  boat  and  river  were  not  sentient  things. 

At  intervals  we  met  other  boats  toiling 
slowly  up  stream,  pulled  laboriously  by  men 
who  strained  along  the  bank  at  the  ends  of 
hundreds  of  feet  of  tow-rope,  the  ropes  them- 
selves invisible  at  first  for  distance ; so  that  we 
were  aware  only  of  men  walking  along  the  shore 
in  attitudes  of  impossible  equilibrium,  and  of 
boats  that  followed  them  doglike  from  pure 


Down  the  Tenriugawa  2^7 

affection.  It  would  seem  weary  work  even 
for  canal-boating.  It  takes  weeks  to  toil  up 
what  it  once  took  only  hours  to  float  down. 
As  we  sped  past  the  return  convoys,  we 
seemed  sad  profligates,  thus  wantonly  to  be 
squandering  such  dearly-won  vantage  of  posi- 
tion. The  stream  which  meant  money  to  them 
was,  like  money,  hard  come  and  easy  go. 

Still  the  stream  hurried  us  on.  We  hugged 
the  cliffs,  now  on  one  side,  now  on  the  other, 
only  to  have  them  slip  by  us  the  quicker. 
Bend  after  bend  opened,  spread  out,  and 
closed.  The  scene  changed  every  minute,  and 
yet  was  always  the  same.  Then  at  times  we 
were  vouchsafed  openings  in  the  surrounding 
hills,  narrow  bits  of  foreground,  hints  of  a 
something  that  existed  beyond. 

For  three  hours  and  more  we  kept  on  in 
our  serpentine  course,  for  the  river  meandered 
as  whimsically  as  if  it  still  had  a choice  of  its 
own  in  the  matter.  Then  gradually  the  land 
about  began  to  make  overtures  toward  socia- 


2)8  Down  the  Tenriiigawa 

bility.  The  trees  on  the  banks  disappeared, 
the  banks  themselves  decreased  in  height  ; 
then  the  river  took  to  a more  genial  flow,  and 
presently  we  were  ware  of  the  whole  country- 
side to  the  right  coming  down  in  one  long 
sweep  to  the  water’s  edge. 

The  preface  was  over.  The  stream  was  to 
have  a breathing  spell  of  air  and  sunlight  be- 
fore its  great  plunge  into  sixty  miles  of  twi- 
light canon.  With  a quick  turn  of  his  rudder 
oar  the  boatman  in  the  stern  brought  the  flat- 
bottomed  craft  round,  and  in  a jiffy  she  lay 
beached  on  the  shingle  at  Tokimata.  It  was 
now  high  noon. 

The  greater  part  of  the  village  kindly  super- 
intended the  operation  of  disembarking,  and 
then  the  more  active  of  its  inhabitants  trotted 
before  as  guides  to  the  inn.  For  our  boat 
would  go  no  further,  and  therefore  all  our  be- 
longings had  to  come  out.  It  was  only  when 
we  inquired  for  further  conveyance  that  the 
crowd  showed  signs  of  satiety  and  edged  off. 


Down  the  Tenringawa  2^g 

To  our  importunities  on  this  head  the  populace 
were  statuesque  or  worse.  A Japanese  assent 
is  not  always  the  most  encouraging  of  replies, 
and  a Japanese  “No”  touches  in  you  a depth 
not  unlike  despair.  They  have  a way  of  hint- 
ing the  utter  hopelessness  of  your  wish,  past, 
present,  and  to  come,  an  eternity  of  impossi- 
bility to  make  you  regret  that  you  ever  were 
born.  After  we  had  reached  the  inn,  and  had 
stated  our  wants  to  a more  informed  audience, 
we  were  told  that  the  nautical  part  of  the  in- 
habitants were  in  the  fields,  gathering  mul- 
berry leaves  for  the  silkworms.  From  the 
bribe  we  offered  to  induce  a change  in  pur- 
suit, we  judged  money  to  be  no  object  to 
them.  There  remained  nothing,  therefore,  but 
the  police. 

It  is  good  policy  never  to  invoke  the  law 
except  in  the  last  extremity,  for  you  are  pretty 
safe  to  have  some  flaw  shown  up  in  you  be- 
fore you  are  through  with  it.  The  law  in  this 
case  was  represented,  Yejiro  found,  by  a per- 


240  Down  the  Tenriugawa 

son  still  yellow  with  the  jaundice.  He  met 
the  demand  for  boatmen  with  the  counter  de- 
mand for  the  passport,  and  when  this  was 
produced  his  official  eye  at  once  detected  its 
anachronism. 

“ This,”  said  he,  “ is  not  in  order.  I do  not 
see  how  you  can  go  on  at  all.” 

To  add  artificial  impossibility  to  natural,  was 
too  much.  Yejiro  answered  that  he  had  better 
come  to  the  inn ; which  he  accordingly  did. 
Poor  man ! I pitied  him.  For,  in  the  first 
place,  he  was  still  jaundiced ; and,  in  the  sec- 

I 

ond,  although  conscious  of  guilt  as  I was,  I 
was  much  the  less  disturbed  of  the  two.  I 
was  getting  used  to  being  a self-smuggler ; 
while  he,  as  the  Japanese  say,  was  “taihen 
komarimasu  ” (exceedingly  “ know  not  what 
to  do  ”),  a phrase  which  is  a national  com- 
plaint. In  this  instance  he  had  cause.  What 
to  do  with  so  hardened  a sinner  was  a problem 
passing  his  powers.  Here  was  a law-breaker 
who  by  rights  should  at  once  be  bundled  back 


Down  the  Tenriugawa  241 

to  Tokyo  under  police  surveillance..  But  he 
could  not  go  himself,  he  had  no  one  to  send, 
and  furthermore  the  delinquent  seemed  only 
too  willing  to  escort  himself  there,  free  of 
government  expense,  as  speedily  as  possible. 
All  I had  to  do  was  to  whet  his  perception 
that  the  sooner  boatmen  were  got  the  sooner 
I should  be  on  the  right  side  of  the  law  again. 
After  some  conflict  with  himself  he  went  in 
search  of  m.en. 

I was  left  to  study  the  carp-pond,  with  its 
gold  and  silver  fish,  the  pivot  of  attention 
of  the  pretty  little  garden  court  which  stood 
handy  to  the  kitchen.  This  juxtaposition  was 
no  accident ; for  such  ponds  are  landscape  and 
larder  in  one.  Between  meals  the  fish  are 
scenery ; at  the  approach  of  the  dinner  hour 
they  turn  into  game.  The  inn  guest  having 
sufficiently  enjoyed  the  gambols  of  future  re- 
pasts, picks  out  his  dish  to  suit  his  taste  or 
capacity,  and  the  fish  is  instantly  netted  and 
translated  to  the  gridiron.  The  survivors, 


242  Down  the  Tenriugawa 

none  the  wiser,  continue  to  steamboat  about, 
intent  on  their  own  dinners,  flashing  their 
colors  as  they  turn  their  armored  sides  in  and 
out  of  the  light.  Eccentric  nature  has  fitted 
these  prototypes  of  navigation  with  all  the 
modern  improvements.  Double  and  even 
triple  sets  of  screws  are  common  things  in 
tails,  and  sometimes  the  fins,  too,  are  duplex. 
As  for  me,  I had  neither  the  heart  nor  the 
stomach  to  help  depopulate  the  pond.  But 
I took  much  mechanical  delight  in  their  mo- 
tions ; so  I fed  them  instead  of  they  me. 

I had  my  choice  between  doing  this  and 
watching  the  late  boatmen  at  their  dinner  in 
the  distance.  No  doubt  moods  have  an  aes- 
thetic conscience  of  their  own,  — they  demand 
appropriate  setting ; for  I was  annoyed  at  the 
hilarity  of  these  men  over  their  midday  meal. 
I bore  them  no  malice,  but  I own  I should 
have  preferred  not  to  have  seen  them  thus 
making  free  with  time  they  had  declared  them- 
selves unable  to  sell  to  me. 


Down  the  Tenritigawa  ^43 

Thanks  in  part  to  my  quality  of  outlaw,  and 
in  part  to  four  hours’  propitiation  of  the  gods 
of  delay,  the  jaundiced  policeman  finally  suc- 
ceeded in  beating  up  a crew.  There  were  four 
conscripts  in  all,  kerchiefed,  not  to  say  petti- 
coated,  in  the  native  nautical  costume  ; a cos- 
tume not  due  to  being  fresh-water  sailors, 
since  their  salt-water  cousins  are  given  to  a 
like  disguise  of  sex.  These  mariners  made 
us  wait  while  they  finished  their  preparations. 
It  meant  a long  voyage  to  them,  — a facilis 
descensus  Averni  ; sed  revocare  gradimt,  — a 
very  long  pull.  Then  the  bow  was  poled  off, 
the  current  took  us  in  its  arms  and  swung  us 
out  into  the  stream,  and  the  crowd  on  the 
shingle  dropped  perspectively  astern. 

While  I was  still  standing  gazing  at  lessen- 
ing Tokimata,  I heard  a cry  from  behind  me, 
and,  turning,  ducked  just  in  time  to  escape 
being  unceremoniously  somersaulted  into  the 
water  by  a hawser  stretched  from  bank  to 
bank  at  a level  singularly  suited  to  such  a 


244  Down  the  Tenriiigawa 

trick.  The  rope  was  the  stationary  half  of  a 
ferry  to  which  I had  neglected  to  make  timely 
obeisance.  It  marked,  indeed,  an  incipient 
stage  in  the  art  of  suspension  bridges,  the 
ferryboat  itself  supporting  a part  of  the 
weight,  while  the  ferryman  pulled  it  and  him- 
self across.  We  met  several  more  in  the 
course  of  the  next  few  minutes,  before  which 
we  all  bowed  down  into  the  bottom  of  the 
boat,  while  the  hawser  scraped,  grumbling  im- 
potently,  overhead. 

Our  boat  was  of  adaptive  build.  It  was 
forty-five  feet  long,  not  quite  four  feet  wide, 
and  somewhat  over  two  feet  deep.  These  pro- 
portions and  the  character  of  the  wood  made 
it  exceeding  lithe,  so  that  it  bent  like  a willow 
before  necessity.  In  the  stern  stood  the  head 
man,  wielding  for  rudder  an  oar  half  as  long 
again  as  those  the  others  used.  There  was 
very  little  rowing  done,  nor  was  there  need  ; 
the  current  itself  took  us  along  at  racing 
speed. 


Down  the  Tenriugawa  ^43 

Shortly  after  ducking  under  the  last  ferry 
rope  we  reached  the  gateway  to  the  canon. 
Some  rapids  made  an  introduction,  rocks  in 
places  jutting  out  of  the  foam,  and  while  we 
were  still  curveting  to  the  waves  the  hills 
suddenly  closed  in  upon  the  stream  in  two 
beetling  cliffs,  spanned  surprisingly  by  a lofty 
cantalever  bridge.  An  individual  who  chanced 
to  cross  at  the  moment  stopped  in  mid  path 
to  watch  us  through.  The  stream  swept  us 
in,  and  the  countryside  contracted  to  a vanish- 
ing vista  behind.  We  were  launched  on  our 
long  canon  voyage. 

The  change  was  as  sudden  as  a thunder- 
storm of  a smiling  summer  afternoon.  It  was 
an  eclipse  of  the  earth  by  the  earth  itself. 
Dark  rocks  picketed  with  trees  rose  in  still 
darker  shadow  on  either  hand,  higher  than  one 
could  see.  The  black  river  swirled  beside  us, 
silent,  sullen,  swift.  At  the  bottom  of  that 
gorge  untrodden  by  man,  borne  by  the  dark 
flood  that  untouched  by  sunlight  coiled  snake- 


2^6  Down  the  Tenriugawa 

like  along,  we  seemed  adventured  on  some  un- 
forgotten Styx. 

For  some  time  we  had  voyaged  thus  with  a 
feeling  not  unlike  awe,  when  all  at  once  there 
was  a bustle  among  the  boatmen,  and  one  of 
them  went  forward  and  stood  up  in  the  bow. 
We  swept  round  a corner,  and  saw  our  first 
great  rapids  three  hundred  yards  ahead.  We 
could  mark  a dip  in  the  stream,  and  then  a 
tumbled  mass  of  white  water,  while  a roar  as  of 
rage  came  out  of  the  body  of  it.  As  we  swept 
down  upon  the  spot,  the  man  in  the  bow  be- 
gan beating  the  gunwale  with  his  oar  in  regu- 
larly repeated  raps.  The  board  gave  out  a hol- 
low ring  that  strangely  filled  the  river  chasm ; 
a sound  well  calculated  to  terrify  the  evil  spirits 
of  the  spot.  For  indeed  it  was  an  exorcism 
of  homoeopathic  design.  His  incantation  fin- 
ished, he  stood  motionless.  So  did  the  rest  of 
us,  waiting  for  the  plunge.  The  boat  dipped  by 
the  bow,  darted  forward,  and  in  a trice  we  were 
in  the  midst  of  a deafening  turmoil  of  boil- 


Down  the  Tenriugawa  24^ 

ing  waters  and  crashing  breakers.  The  break- 
ers laid  violent  hands  upon  us,  grappling  at 
the  frail  gunwale  and  coming  in  part  aboard, 
and  then,  as  we  slipped  from  their  grasp,  im- 
potently  flung  their  spray  in  our  faces,  and 
with  a growl  dropped  astern.  The  boat  trem- 
bled like  a leaf,  and  was  trembling  yet,  when, 
with  nightmare  speed,  the  thing  had  slipped 
into  the  past,  and  we  were  shot  out  into  the 
midst  of  the  seething  flood  below. 

Not  the  least  impressive  part  of  the  affair 
was  the  strange  spirit  - rapping  on  the  bow. 
The  boatmen  valiantly  asserted  that  this  was 
simply  for  signal  to  the  man  in  the  stern.  Un- 
doubtedly now  the  action  has  largely  cloaked 
itself  in  habit,  but  that  it  once  was  supersti- 
tious is  unquestionable.  Devils  still  constitute 
far  too  respected  a portion  of  the  community 
in  peasant  parts  of  Japan, 

The  steering  the  boatmen  did  was  clever, 
but  the  steering  the  stream  managed  of  its 
own  motion  was  more  so.  For  between  the 


248  Down  the  Tenriugawa 

rapids  proper  were  swirls  and  whirlpools  and 
races  without  end.  The  current  took  us  in 
hand  at  the  turns,  sweeping  us  down  at  speed 
straight  for  a rock  on  the  opposite  bank,  and 
then,  just  as  shipwreck  seemed  inevitable, 
whisked  us  round  upon  the  other  tack.  A 
thick  cushion  of  water  had  fended  the  boat  off, 
so  that  to  strike  would  have  been  as  impossi- 
ble as  it  looked  certain.  And  then  at  inter- 
vals came  the  roar  of  another  rapid,  like  a stir- 
ring refrain,  with  the  boatman  in  the  bow  to 
beat  the  time. 

So  we  swept  on,  now  through  inky  swirls 
of  tide,  now  through  snow-capped  billows, 
moods  these  of  the  passing  stream,  while 
above  the  grand  character  of  the  gorge  re- 
mained eternally  the  same. 


The  trees  far  up,  sharp-etched  against  the  blue. 
Let  but  the  river’s  strip  of  skylight  through 
To  trees  below,  that  on  each  jutting  ledge 
Scant  foothold  found  to  overlook  the  edge,  — 
As  still  as  statues  on  their  niches  there. 


Down  the  Tenriugawa  24q 

Where  no  breeze  stirred  the  ever-shadowed  air,  — 
Spellbound  spectators,  crowded  tier  on  tier 
From  where  the  lowest,  bending  to  be  near 
The  shock  of  spray,  with  leaves  a-tremble  stood 
In  shuddering  gaze  above  the  swirling  flood. 

The  whole  deep  chasm,  some  vast  natural  nave 
That  to  the  thought  a touch  of  grandeur  gave. 

And  touch  of  grace,  — for  that  wistaria  clung 
Upon  the  trees,  its  grapelike  bunches  hung 
In  stretch  to  catch  their  semblance  in  the  stream ; 

Pale  purple  clusters,  meant  to  live  in  dream. 

Placed  high  above  man’s  predatory  clutch. 

To  sight  alone  vouchsafed,  from  harming  touch 
Wisely  withheld  as  he  is  hurried  past. 

And  thus  the  more  a memory  to  last, 

A violet  vision  ; there  to  stay  — fair  fate  — 

Forever  virginly  inviolate. 

Slowly  the  strip  of  sky  overhead  became 
steeped  in  color,  the  half  light  at  the  bottom 
of  the  gorge  deepened  in  tint,  and  suddenly  a 
turn  brought  us  out  at  a blaze  in  the  cliff, 
where  a handful  of  houses  straggled  up  toward 
the  outer  world.  We  had  reached  Mitsushima, 
a shafting  in  the  tunnel,  and  our  halting  place 
for  the  night. 


XXL 

To  the  Sea. 

It  was  a ten  minutes’  walk,  the  next  morn- 
ing, from  the  inn  down  to  the  boat : an  ever- 
winding  path  along  a succession  of  terraces 
studded  with  trees  just  breaking  into  leaf,  and 
dotted  with  cottages,  whose  folk  gave  us  good- 
day  as  we  passed.  The  site  of  the  village 
sloped  to  the  south,  its  cheek  full  turned  to  the 
sunshine  that  stole  down  and  kissed  it  as  it 
lay.  On  this  lovely  May  morning,  amid  the 
slumbering  air,  it  made  as  amorous  a bit  of 
springtide  as  the  heart  could  wish.  In  front 
of  us,  in  vignette,  stretched  the  stream,  half  a 
mile  of  it  to  where  it  turned  the  corner.  Each 
succeeding  level  of  terrace  reset  the  picture, 
as  if  for  trial  of  effect. 


To  the  Sea  2^1 

Thel)oat  was  waiting,  lightly  grounded  on  a 
bit  of  shingle  left  by  a turn  of  the  current. 
Several  enthusiastic  followers  accompanied  us 
out  to  it  with  respectful  insistence. 

On  reaching  our  craft,  we  found,  to  our  sur- 
prise, that  it  was  full  of  bales  of  merchandise 
of  large  and  plethoric  habit.  We  asked  in 
astonishment  what  all  this  cargo  meant.  The 
men  answered  sheepishly  that  it  was  to  make 
the  boat  ride  better.  The  boat  had  ridden 
well  enough  the  day  before,  and  on  general 
principles  should,  it  would  seem,  ride  all  the 
better  for  being  light.  But  indeed  their  guilt 
was  plain.  Our  rascally  boatmen,  who  had 
already  charged  a goodly  sum  for  their  craft, 
had  thought  to  serve  two  masters,  and  after 
having  leased  the  whole  boat  to  me  were  in- 
tending now  to  turn  a dishonest  penny  by 
shipping  somebody  else’s  goods  into  the  bar- 
gain. In  company  with  the  rest  of  my  kind, 
I much  dislike  to  be  imposed  upon ; so  I told 
them  they  might  instantly  take  the  so-called 


252  To  the  Sea 

ballast  out  again.  When  I had  seen  the  pro- 
cess of  disembarkation  fairly  begun  I relented, 
deciding,  so  long  as  the  bales  were  already 
aboard,  to  take  them  on  to  the  first  stopping 
place,  and  there  put  them  ashore. 

The  river,  its  brief  glimpse  at  civilization 
over,  relapsed  again  into  utter  savagery. 
Rocks  and  trees,  as  wild  apparently  as  their 
first  forerunners  there,  walled  us  in  on  the 
sides,  and  appeared  to  do  so  at  the  ends,  mak- 
ing exit  seem  an  impossibility,  and  entrance  to 
have  been  a dream.  The  stream  gave  short 
reaches,  disclosing  every  few  minutes,  as  it 
took  us  round  a fresh  turn,  a new  variation  on 
the  old  theme.  Then,  as  we  glided  straight 
our  few  hundred  feet,  the  wall  behind  us  rose 
higher  and  higher,  stretching  out  at  us  as  if  to 
prevent  our  possible  escape.  We  had  thought 
it  only  a high  cliff,  and  behold  it  was  the  whole 
mountain  side  that  had  stood  barrier  there. 

I cannot  point  the  wildness  of  it  all  better 
than  did  a certain  sight  we  came  upon  sud- 


To  the  Sea  25^ 

denly,  round  a corner.  Without  the  least 
warning,  a bend  in  the  current  introduced  us 
to  a fishing-pole  and  a basket,  reposing  together 
on  the  top  of  a rock.  These  two  hints  at 
humanity  sat  all  by  themselves,  keeping  one 
another  company ; no  other  sign  of  man  was 
visible  anywhere.  The  pair  of  waifs  gave  one 
an  odd  feeling,  as  might  the  shadow  of  a 
person  apart  from  the  person  himself.  There 
was  something  uncanny  in  their  commonplace- 
ness in  so  uncommon  a place.  While  we  were 
still  wondering  at  the  whereabouts  of  their 
owner,  another  turn  disclosed  him  by  a sort  of 
cove  where  his  boat  lay  drawn  up.  Indeed, 
it  was  an*  ideal  spot  for  an  angler,  and  a lucra- 
tive one  as  well,  for  the  river  is  naturally  full 
of  fish.  Were  I the  angler  I have  seen  others, 
I would  encamp  here  for  the  rest  of  my  life 
and  feed  off  such  phosphoric  diet  as  I might 
catch,  to  the  quickening  of  the  brain  and  the 
composing  of  the  body.  But  fortunately  man 
has  more  of  the  river  than  of  the  rock  in  his 


2^4  To  the  Sea 

composition,  and  whether  he  will  or  no  is 
steadily  being  hurried  past  such  nicks  in  life 
toward  other  adventures  beyond. 

The  rapids  here  were,  if  anything,  finer  than 
those  above  Mitsushima.  Of  them  in  all  there 
are  said  to  be  more  than  thirty.  Some  have 
nickname.s,  as  “the  Turret,”  “the  Adze,” 
“Boiling  Rice,”  and  “the  Mountain  Bath.” 
Indeed,  probably  all  of  them  have  distinctive 
appellations,  but  one  cannot  ask  the  names 
of  everybody  in  a procession.  There  were 
some  bad  enough  to  give*  one  a sensation. 
Two  of  the  worst  rocks  have  been  blown 
up,  but  enough  still  remain  to  point  a mo- 
mentary moral  or  adorn  an  after  tale.  All 
were  exhilarating.  Through  even  the  least 
bad  I should  have  been  more  than  sorry  to 
have  come  alone.  But  confiding  trust  in  the 
boatmen  was  not  misplaced  ; for  if  questiona- 
ble in  their  morals,  they  were  above  reproach 
in  their  water-craft. 

The  rapids  were  incidents ; the  gorge  we 


To  the  Sea  2‘j<j 

had  always  with  us,  superb  cleft  that  it  was, 
hewn  as  by  some  giant  axe,  notching  the 
mountain  chain  imperiously  for  passage.  Hour 
followed  hour  with  the  same  setting.  How 
the  river  first  took  it  into  its  head  to  come 
through  so  manifestly  unsuitable  a place  is  a 
secret  for  the  geologist  to  tell.  But  I for  one 
wish  I had  been  by  to  see. 

From  morning  till  noon  we  raced  with  the 
water  at  the  bottom  of  the  canon.  Each  turn 
was  like,  and  yet  unlike,  the  one  before,  so  that 
I wonder  that  I have  other  than  a blurred  com- 
posite picture  on  my  mind’s  plate.  Yet  cer- 
tain bits  have  picked  themselves  out  and 
ousted  the  rest,  and  the  river  comes  up  to  me 
in  thought  as  vivid  as  in  life. 

These  repeated  disclosures  that  disclosed 
nothing  lulled  us  at  last  into  a happy  uncon- 
sciousness of  end  in  this  subterranean  passage 
to  a lower  world.  Though  we  were  cleaving  the 
mountain  chain  in  part  against  the  grain,  in- 
deed because  we  were,  it  showed  no  sign  of 


2^0  To  the  Sea 

giving  out ; until  without  premonition  a curve 
shot  us  out  at  the  foot  of  a village  perched  so 
perpendicularly  on  terraces  that  it  almost  over- 
hung the  stream.  It  was  called  Nishinoto, 
and  consisted  of  a street  that  sidled  up  be- 
tween the  dwellings  in  a more  than  alpine  way. 
Up  it  we  climbed  aerially  to  a teahouse  for 
lunch  ; but  not  before  I had  directed  the  boat- 
men to  discharge  the  smuggled  goods. 

In  another  hour  we  were  under  way  again 
less  the  uninvited  bales,  which,  left  sitting  all 
alone  on  the  sands,  mutely  reproached  us  till 
they  could  be  seen  no  more.  At  the  first  bend 
the  gorge  closed  round  about  us  as  rugged  as 
ever.  The  rapids  were  not  so  dangerous  as 
those  above,  but  the  stream  was  still  fast  if  less 
furious.  When  we  looked  at  the  water  we  did 
not  appear  to  be  moving  at  all,  and  when  we 
looked  up  again  at  the  bank  we  almost  lost  our 
balance  for  the  sudden  start. 

Then  gradually  a change  crept  over  the  face 
of  things.  The  stream  grew  a thought  more 


To  the  Sea  257 

steady,  the  canon  a shade  less  wild.  We  passed 
through  some  more  rapids,  — our  last,  the 
boatmen  said.  The  river  began  to  widen,  the 
mountains  standing  more  respectfully  apart. 
They  let  us  see  nothing  new,  but  they  showed 
us  more  of  themselves,  and  grand  buttresses 
they  made.  Then  the  reaches  grew  longer, 
and  other  hills  less  high  became  visible  ahead. 
By  all  signs  we  were  come  to  the  beginning  of 
the  end.  Another  turn,  and  we  were  con- 
fronted with  a real  view,  — a very  hilly  view, 
to  be  sure,  but  one  that  belonged  to  the  world 
of  man. 

It  was  like  coming  out  of  a tunnel  into  the 
light. 

The  current  hurried  us  on.  At  each  bend 
the  hills  in  front  rose  less  wild  than  at  the 
bend  before.  Villages  began  to  dot  the  shores, 
and  the  river  spread  out  and  took  its  ease. 
Another  curve,  and  we  no  longer  saw  hills  and 
rocks  ahead.  A great  plain  stretched  before 
us,  over  which  our  eyes  wandered  at  will. 


2^8  To  the  Sea 

Looking  back,  we  marked  the  mountains  al- 
ready closing  up  in  line.  I tried  to  place 
the  river’s  gap,  but  the  barrier  had  grown  con- 
tinuous to  the  eye.  Like  adventurers  in  a 
fairy  tale,  the  opening  through  which  we  had 
come  had  closed  unrecognizably  behind  us. 

In  front  all  was  plain,  every-day  plain,  with 
people  tilling  it,  and  hamlets ; and  in  the  im- 
mediate foreground,  right  athwart  our  course, 
a ferryboat  full  of  folk.  As  we  bore  down 
between  it  and  the  landing  place  two  men 
gesticulated  at  us  from  the  bank.  We  swerved 
in  toward  them.  They  shouted  something  to 
the  boatmen,  and  Yejiro  turned  to  me.  The 
wayfarers  asked  if  we  would  let  them  go  with 
us  to  the  sea.  There  was  no  regular  convey- 
ance, and  they  much  desired  to  reach  the  To- 
kaido  that  night.  What  would  I do  } 

“ Oh  ! Very  well,”  said  I,  reluctantly,  “ take 
them  on  board.” 

So  it  had  come  to  this,  after  our  romantic 
solitary  voyage ! We  were  to  end  as  a com- 


To  the  Sea  259 

mon  carrier,  after  all.  One  is  born  a demigod, 
the  French  say,  to  die  a grocer. 

Our  passengers  were  honest  and  business- 
like. Soon  after  coming  aboard  they  offered 
to  pay  for  their  passage,  an  offer  I politely 
declined.  Then  they  fell  to  chatting  with  Ye- 
jiro,  and  I doubt  not  in  five  minutes  had 
possessed  themselves  of  all  our  immediate  his- 
tory. 

Meanwhile,  the  river  was  lazily  dropping  us 
down  to  the  sea.  On  the  left,  at  a respectful 
distance,  a long,  low  rise,  like  a bit  of  fortifica- 
tion, ran  down  indefinitely  in  the  same  direc- 
tion, by  way  of  encouraging  the  stream.  Piti- 
able supposition  ! Was  this  meadow-meander- 
ing bit  of  water  indeed  our  wild  Tenriugawa  ! 
It  seemed  impossible.  Once  we  had  a ba- 
thetic bit  of  excitement  over  a near  case  of 
grounding,  where  the  water  had  spread  itself 
out  to  ripple  down  to  a lower  level.  This  was 
all  to  recall  the  past.  The  stream  had  grown 
steady  and  profitable.  More  than  once  we 


26o  To  the  Sea 

passed  craft  jarringly  mercantile,  and  even 
some  highly  respectable  automatons,  water- 
wheel boats  anchored  in  the  current,  nose  to 
tail,  in  a long  line,  apparently  paddling  up 
stream,  but  never  advancing  an  inch.  And 
all  these  sights  had  a work-a-day,  machine  look 
like  middle  age. 

The  afternoon  aged  to  match.  The  sun  be- 
gan to  dip  behind  the  distant  hills;  and  then 
toward  the  east,  in  front  of  us,  came  out  the 
long  outline  of  the  Tokaido  bridge,  three  quar- 
ters of  a mile  in  length,  like  a huge  caterpillar 
crawling  methodically  across  the  river-bed. 
Gradually  we  drew  toward  it,  till  its  myriad 
legs  glinted  in  the  sunset  glow ; and  then,  as 
we  swept  under,  it  wheeled  round  to  become 
instantly  a gaunt  stalking  silhouette  against 
the  sky.  From  below  by  the  river’s  mouth 
the  roar  of  the  surf  came  forebodingly  up  out 
of  the  ashen  east.  But  in  the  west  was  still  a 
glory,  and  as  I turned  to  it  I seemed  to  look 
down  the  long  vista  of  the  journey  to  western 


To  the  Sea  261 

Noto  by  the  sea.  I thought  how  I had  pic- 
tured it  to  myself  before  starting,  and  then 
how  little  the  facts  had  fitted  the  fancy.  It  had 
lost  and  gained  ; if  no  longer  maiden,  it  was 
mine,  and  the  glamour  that  fringes  the  future 
had  but  changed  to  the  glamour  that  gilds  the 
past.  Distance  had  brought  it  all  back  again. 
Delays,  discomforts,  difficulties,  disappeared, 
and  its  memory  rose  as  lovely  as  the  sky 
past  which  I looked.  For  the  better  part  of 
place  or  person  is  the  thought  it  leaves  be- 
hind. 


